


Something Cool

by revel_ry



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Addiction, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Depression, Drug Use, Fluff, Headcanons: Bokuto dimples and a gemini Mattsun glasses Kags chill Hinata smart, M for swearing, M/M, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, See warning in notes, Set in America, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, University AU, age differences NCC, band au, in this house we love supporting cast, other HQ ensemble - Freeform, we're just gonna pretend they're speaking English I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 112,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25042471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revel_ry/pseuds/revel_ry
Summary: Kageyama is a university student and managing member of their band of two years, Something Cool. More than his classes, and more than himself, he cares about his friends. The five other members of their group matter the most to him. He's known Bokuto almost his entire life--enough to know that the Bo he's starting to see lately isn't the same person he's been around for over a decade. Add on the fact that Suga, their band leader, is about to graduate, and Akaashi is wary of Bokuto too and their relationship is starting to get slippery, and the guy Kageyama's suddenly developed a crush on actually has a crush on their bassist, and Kuroo's still being a dick about it and nobody knows what's going on between him and Suga, and Mattsun's just trying to make it through finals without having a mental break... Suddenly there are too many choices to make, and Kageyama has never been good at decisions at all.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 132
Kudos: 182
Collections: Fics that I highly recommend, Haikyuu Fics That Light my soul on Fire, Have Read





	1. Savannah, GA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming to the fic!
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> Follow or visit me on
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> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/revel__ry)
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> if you'd like me to write something for you :)
> 
> **WARNING: There is one warning for this story that I choose not to disclose beforehand for plot purposes. When that chapter comes about, I’ll put a warning label in the opening notes.

_SATURDAY_

* * *

The possibility that this is rock bottom crosses Kageyama’s mind, but at least his pants aren’t still down. There have been way rockier bottoms than this one anyway. It’s mid-April, right?

He stands staring into the toilet, or whatever passes for one when it comes to a Porta Potty, with his phone flashlight illuminating the space upwards from where the phone is face down, mocking him. This is really, _really_ irritating. He can feel one of his eyebrows twitching.

Fortunately, the home screen is still working when he plucks it out. He faces the door, sighs, turns his flashlight off, and exits purgatory.

Akaashi has his arms crossed and they stand out in the light. He has that lean, rides a bike around campus type of body, and a face you don’t mess with. The towel around his neck is askew. Kageyama looks at it wishing he brought one—his bangs are sweaty, flopping down between his eyes and sticking to his brow. He picked a hoodie to avoid a sunburn, but it’s eighty-two degrees out. Spring in the southeast can suck it.

“What took you so long?” Akaashi calls. “We’ll miss the set.” He checks his nice, clean phone clutched in one hand. His narrow eyes are even more so in the sun, squinted under furrowed brows.

Kageyama steps down from the Porta Potty, sticking his hands in the pockets of his joggers. “You don’t want to know.” His festival wristband is sticking to his left wrist, and his ribbon to his right. He scratches at them both and shakes his head. “Dropped my freaking phone into it.” He shoves at his bangs.

Akaashi does his laugh—that sarcastic, airy one when he actually thinks something is amusing. “Good going.”

“Thanks.”

They start weaving through a bunch of other Gen Zs to make it back to their stage. They’re about to get set for an amazing slot Akaashi landed for them at the Outer Bands Southeast Music Festival—kind of a messed up name with the hurricane thing, but also kind of cool.

“How much do you want to bet,” Akaashi says, “that in the time we were gone, Suga’s already poured half a bottle of water on himself to get his signature look. What does he call it? Half sweaty soft boy, half wet puppy?”

Kageyama snorts, tucking his shoulder out of the way of a girl with space buns, one black and one green, and the pierced guy she’s holding hands with. They’re in the more punk portion of the festival right now, he figures. Suga bleaches his hair and Kuroo used to have an eyebrow piercing anyway.

“Try soft boy holding a wet puppy. In the rain,” he says. He takes a swig of his water bottle and laughs. “And sweating. He knows what works for him. I’d put a hundred on it.”

“Try a thousand. Can I have some?”

Kageyama hands over his bottle and watches Akaashi down what’s left. “Dude.”

“I’ll buy you another.”

A few more minutes has them at the side of their assigned stage for the day. The girl band that was on when they left is gone now, and some guy in a black T-shirt and lanyard working for the festival is helping bring stuff onto the stage, a stool in one hand and one of four cymbals in the other. The crowd is pretty fair—probably some kids from their university mixed with other people from around the closest states. Kageyama pulls his phone out, using only his fingertips, and takes a few photos for Instagram and Twitter later.

“Looks good, huh?” he says.

Akaashi shrugs. “Maybe five hundred? Definitely beats our usual.”

Aka, The Room: the bar-club just off campus that allows them to play whenever they don’t have a gig for that weekend, which isn’t exactly never. It only holds three hundred, maximum. Their music doesn’t fit inside that place, but beggars can’t be choosers.

From the back of the stage: “Hey, hey, hey! What is up, Savannah?”

Bokuto is carrying his hi-hat, lifting his other arm with sticks in hand and showing off his ribbon tied above his bicep, tails trailing down a foot each. Hi-top Vans, terrycloth short shorts, and his sleeveless shirt that almost matches with Akaashi’s—navy, left breast text reading HAVE A GOOD TIME in yellow (Akaashi’s is in white), and sleeveless only because the sleeves were cut off. Akaashi’s ribbon is around the opposite arm, mirrored from Bokuto’s. It’s a couple thing.

The crowd gives Bokuto a nice _woo_ , no charge. In the sun, the dimples on his cheeks are deep and visible even from here. He adjusts his stool and hi-hat width, plays a little roll on his ride cymbal, then stands and grins at everyone. “Thank you for your attention. I’ll give you like six minutes to prepare yourselves, okay? You guys aren’t even ready.” He points to the crowd and jogs back down behind the stage.

Akaashi sighs.

“Who hired him?” Kageyama says, shaking his head.

“Who decided it was a good idea to _date_ him?”

Kageyama snorts.

Black T-shirt is back and carrying the keyboard stand. He takes it to stage left and locks it on the height marked in yellow electrical tape. Behind him, their synth player—quiet, businessy, unbothered, beloved—is wheeling in his baby, aptly named Baby.

Mattsun waves to the crowd, and Kageyama watches some of the girls in the front row wave back. “How’s everyone?” he calls. As he leans over to unlock his massive case, his own red ribbon dangles from where it’s wrapped over his neck, tucked underneath the collar of one of his show-only shirts—loose-fitting, vertical stripes, ‘70s style.

One of the girls says she’s doing just fine now.

Mattsun enlists T-shirt to help hoist the synthesizer onto the stand. With his guyish, thick-browed, tired look and semi-rimless glasses, Kageyama has always thought he sort of looks like a podcast host out of San Francisco, or just the more masculine version of Akaashi. Mattsun pulls out four pedals they fixed to a two-by-four, his mixer covered in dials switches faders and channels that he attaches above the keys, and probably a combined hundred feet worth of cables he uses to connect to amps and to patch his custom settings. His hair is undercut but sloppy on the top, and when he stands, he pushes back slightly curly bangs, adjusts his glasses on gentle fingertips, and nods in the vague direction of the crowd. “You guys mind if I sound check?”

“Only if I can.”

Enter stage right: eldest, bassist, archetypal or cliché depending on who you ask. Messy black bangs too long for his eyes, faded black jeans too tight for his thighs, a black Henley, Doc Martens and a leather belt and guitar strap. He wears his red ribbon like a garter, visible around that toned left thigh behind the angle of his bass. Kuroo Tetsurou, holding his baby: a fretless, ash wood, gradient red-to-black Yamaha. The bass’s name is Darla, because after Mattsun suggested Darling, ironically or not, Kuroo told him that naming your instrument a human pet name was both anthropomorphizing and classist, akin to a Hilton naming a chihuahua, and Mattsun might have flipped Baby in his face if he was in any way combative.

More girls for Kuroo than for Mattsun. It fits his reputation, which doesn’t fit the fact that he graduated early last semester _cum laude_ with a fine arts degree. He didn’t walk.

Mattsun gets his cables situated, and Kuroo messes with the amps and his all-important distortion pedal. The two get to sound checking while Bokuto, sweatband under his streaked black and purple home-dyed undercut, finishes up in the back. He interacts with the crowd like he’s known them all forever, asks questions and checks for frequent fliers, makes the _ba-dum tsss_ at his own jokes, winks at Akaashi once or twice.

He’s looking skinnier lately, but Kageyama understands what it’s like to be a little bit poor.

“How many songs today?” Kageyama asks.

“Seven,” Akaashi tells him. “Starting with ‘Research,’ ending with ‘Manor.’”

As in “Manor of Man,” their closer and most popular song that would be the title track if they had an actual album. Spotify and Apple Music are a long way off, and SoundCloud would be kind of an embarrassment, but it at least forces live shows on people. The title is from _manner_ , a nice play on words only fitting for the kind of stuff the guys play: happy music with weird lyrics or creepy music with sad lyrics, multiple keys per song, synth and bass driven, skin melting alt-pop. When they first got together, grown from Kuroo and Suga into a full band with a “social media manager” and a “manager”—aka, Kageyama posting online and Akaashi paying enough attention to actually get them gigs—none of them guessed that grunge poster boy Kuroo would write the kind of music he does. But they’ve gained some popularity, at least on their campus and around town with these people who are willing to come over an hour here to see them perform. Maybe they’ll get some new fans today.

“Maketh man,” Kageyama says, and Akaashi nods.

Kuroo scoops into tune on his fourth string, plucks the G with long, deft bassist’s fingers a few times. That’s the signal.

Bokuto grabs his mic and angles it toward him. “All right, everyone. We’re gonna be kicking it off with our number one hit today, so let’s go.” He starts in on the opening beat of “Move Along,” The All-American Rejects, then lets his crash ring out and the crowd cheer it on. “Just kidding.” He holds his sticks at one drummer’s thigh and tilts the mic close. “We all know we’re minus one. Everyone, please welcome our lovely leading lady: Marilyn Monroe.”

Mattsun smiles and shakes his head; Akaashi pinches the bridge of his nose. Marilyn walks onstage and the girls respond.

“I think we just made that thousand dollars,” Kageyama says.

Akaashi sighs. “Extra? I wish.”

A chrome mic in one hand, the cord in the other. Tight light jeans, white faux-silk shirt (wet) with the buttons undone to mid chest and his collarbones showing. His red ribbon—satin, like the rest of theirs—is a belt, ends way too long and trailing nearly to the floor from his hip. They have no meaning, but it looks like a cool symbolic thing and makes for awesome advertising around campus—Bokuto tying up a hundred ribbons onto bike racks, tree branches, handrails, lampposts, and pretty much anywhere he can get to whenever they have a show the next night.

Onstage, Suga brushes back then shakes forward longish, professionally platinum hair that’ll be sticking to high highlighted cheekbones by maybe two songs in. He’s the kind of performer who leaves no piece of the stage untouched, no front-row fan unnoticed. Plus, he’s easy on the eyes, somewhat dainty sharp features, brown eyes large and bright, and the personality of an actual adult. Top it with a smile to save the world and that mole under his eye, and their model of a frontman earned them a very fair share of their fans.

“Thanks a lot, Bo, but I’m too freaking skinny,” he says, twirling the mic cord in his hand. He smiles, looking into the eyes of individual fans instead of over their heads. “How are we, Savannah? Good?” Insert crowd response and Suga nods. “Awesome. I’m Suga, this is Kuroo, Mattsun, and Bo back there on the drums. It’s our first time here but not our first time around, so let’s just get right into it. Ten points to whoever knows our first track.”

The shouts of titles of their songs has always made the six of them feel pretty good, which is why Suga does it. They always open the same way and multiple people have called it out; Mattsun is pointing at someone, Bokuto’s aimed his sticks at someone else, and Suga is nodding along with his casually confident stage grin on as if he’s wildly impressed.

“I think we have a winner.” He points at a girl and winks. “And we are Something Cool.”

Bokuto hits a deafening lick and their opener starts up. Kageyama takes a moment to appreciate their sarcastic meta band name that Bokuto came up with one day when they realized just how many other bands had the word _Crows_ in their names. The guys opposed it at first, wanting something with a little more edge, until Bokuto, manic and jittery at two a.m., presented his argument: “I’m going—imagine this now—to The Room to see Something Cool, this chick says, and her bitchy _Mean Girls_ friend says all right, what is it? And she says what’s what, and Regina says the cool thing what’s the cool thing, and she says that’s the band name. Oh _riiight_. Have fun with that. And she has a _blast_ , dude _._ ” They accepted unanimously and Bokuto cried.

“How much did they say we’re actually getting for today?” Kageyama asks over the music, watching Mattsun do his head groove as he switches fluidly back and forth between pedals and dials every eight or so measures.

“Fifteen hundred even,” Akaashi says.

Percentages: ten and ten for the two of them, and then twenties for the guys on stage. It’s a nice hundred-fifty bucks in Kageyama’s pocket then, minus whatever portion of the gas money he’s paying. Half gets sent to his parents for his dorm rent, and the other half is for food.

At The Room, with venue fees, they usually net out to four-fifty a show. They love away gigs.

The guys play through “Research,” “Emotional Support Daydream Universe” with the peppy depressing vocals, “Garden Terrace Overgrown with Kudzu”—lots of unexpected high, smooth bassline to imitate a guitar, long instrumentals and symphony synth, melodic lyrics that make zero sense, Suga looking like Marilyn Monroe and singing straight into the hearts of the front row. A misleading transition into the gritty distortion of their last four songs.

Kuroo has a cigarette between his lips and Bokuto is sweating bullets by the end of round three. It’s hot, and Akaashi still owes Kageyama that second water bottle. He turns to say so but Akaashi is already behind him, relinquishing a five to a different black T-shirt with a box of Dasani around his shoulders. He waterfalls a gulp as he walks back.

“That’s three percent of my cut,” he says, handing it over.

“Tell me about it.” Kageyama chugs a third.

The guys break before the next song and talk to the crowd for a minute, ask how the show’s going. While Suga moderates, Mattsun sips from a thermos he carries around everywhere—pomegranate juice, plain—and Kuroo grinds his cigarette butt under his Docs heel. At the back, Bokuto dips into his pocket and pops an Addy—the orange kind, rapid release—and dry swallows.

Bokuto Koutarou: Kageyama’s best friend since they were kids. They met in elementary, went to church together before Bokuto excommunicated himself and Kageyama fell off into agnosticism. Everyone always said they only got along so well because opposites attract. Bokuto’s a complete whackjob, and probably really does have ADHD but never got diagnosed. Insanity has forms and Bokuto embodies at least one, maybe two. The two of them have been close the whole time, but when Bokuto’s parents died almost three years ago and it crushed his chances at a college education as hard as the semi crushed their Impala, they got Gorilla Glued together.

Forty hours a week in a restaurant for him. It’s this place called Jack’s, almost upscale, fast-paced and coronary-promoting and riddled with lawsuit grease on the kitchen floor and coke in the employee bathroom. Bokuto has never gotten on it or Kageyama would kill him. Bokuto hates the job and it makes him nervous, but he works hard, manages punctuality, and gets meager benefits.

And he drums like a madman since high school. Kuroo and Suga were happy to count him in when the band came about.

The Addy is prep for “Nihilistic Semi-Clairvoyant Alien,” a four and a half minute 220 BPM number with hi-hat eighths throughout, licks every twenty seconds, and two drum solos. With break time over, Kuroo eases his distortion pedal to the floor and riffs in, and Bokuto and Mattsun follow suit. Suga, name brand highlighter crying down to his jaw, pours a little more water over himself and shakes his hair. The girls in front reach their hands out to shimmering droplets of Dasani and soft boy sweat.

“Crap,” Akaashi sighs. “I just remembered I have a test on Thursday.” He rolls his eyes up towards short black hair hanging soft in baby bangs over his forehead.

“Took my last non-final yesterday,” Kageyama says. “What class for you?”

“Audience analytics.”

“I still can’t believe that’s a real course.”

Akaashi Keiji: entertainment management major. He was the ideal fit, and is gaining plenty of experience, except no grad school or real employer will take this seriously on an application unless they get a professional deal.

“Finals in, what?” Kageyama asks.

“Four weeks.”

“Oh.” He blinks, then puts his fingers under his chin. “That’s sooner than I remember,” he mumbles.

Akaashi shakes his head and motions toward the stage. “This girl. Is she from school, or?”

Kageyama follows his gaze toward the front of the crowd. A girl with a bob haircut is wild, jumping around on her toes. The guy behind her is eating her hair and probably assaulting her over her jeans, though she isn’t noticing. Tunnel vision on one Sugawara Koushi.

Kageyama cringes. “Maybe. Don’t recognize her. The girl next to her is cute though.” Boycut brown hair, pincher septum ring. Would pull a knife on Bob right now if it was legal, if only to cut off her stabby elbows. “And pissed.”

Akaashi snorts.

It’s easy to distinguish who is whose fan. Gazes give it away, and Kageyama has a great vantage point from the side. Bob screeching for Suga, shaved head and MCR graphic tee studying Bokuto’s kick drum like a surgeon, close-cropped pink hair singing along while gazing at Mattsun. Kageyama lands on another guy, off the corner of stage left, bright orange hair, short-ish but fluffy, a chunk of it flopping down in a heavy comma at the middle of his forehead. His cheeks are reddish from the sun, and he can’t be more than five-foot-seven, and he has on these actual real pants for this outdoor gig and he’s got to be dying of the heat and Kageyama suddenly realizes he’s actually seen him before. He’s kind of cute, too.

Now that he thinks about it, Real Pants has been to multiple shows at The Room. KBU student with them, then. And he’s always watching Kuroo.

Kageyama takes some more photos through songs five and six while he shares the water with Akaashi. It’s gone by the closer, but they’ll be heading backstage soon anyway to pack up. He tosses it at a trash can, misses, trudges over and recycles it instead. “Manor” is blaring from the amps with dirty bass and heavy kick and the sizzle cymbal they got for Bokuto last Christmas, sustained chords from Mattsun’s left hand and flawless triplets from his right. It’s without doubt their number one song, and the crowd is singing verse two along with Suga’s breathy vocals—even Real Pants.

_Cover up your eyes_

_Wait for the surprise_

_Don’t believe a word you hear_

_Cause everybody lies_

_Creaking on the stairs_

_Static in the air_

_Don’t believe the sounds you hear_

_Cause everybody dies_

For this, a casual routine: Suga making his way behind Kuroo, pressing close to his back and covering his eyes with his hand as if the bangs weren’t doing it already. Kuroo tilts his chin up into it, and Suga goes up on his tiptoes and leans close, breathing notes into his mic near Kuroo’s ear. Bob is shrieking and Real Pants steps closer to the crowd and the stage, risking himself to watch the scene closer. He must have seen it before—it’s standard per the song. When everybody dies, Suga pulls his voice back into his throat as the notes lower down to minor first, pulls long spread fingers down Kuroo’s face, catching the tip of his index on Kuroo’s bottom lip, and melts away to center stage for the chorus.

Kuroo hates these lyrics, _Too fucking Panic!_ , but he wrote them and the whole performance is effective to say the least. Blind, he never misses one note.

At the end of it Kageyama is pretty sure Mattsun is controlling amp volume from his mixer because it keeps getting louder through the repeated final chorus. Suga is bending back further and further as he holds his last note, his chest coming into view as his shirt slips partway off of one pale shoulder. Just as it looks like he’ll fall, he cuts the note and steps into the lean, whipping his hair back from his face and letting the guys play out the rest of the show while he moves onstage. The crowd loves it—a success all around, as usual. A show worth double what they’re getting for it.

Bokuto holds a crash roll while Suga shouts into his mic, “Thank you, Savannah!” before throwing his arm out and dipping into a dramatic bow. A bass slide and ringing cymbals are the last sound before the crowd cheers.

“Panic! would be making a few hundred thousand playing these songs at a bigger gig,” Akaashi murmurs, just audible over the audience next to them. His tone speaks his crossed arms.

Kageyama sighs. “I know.”

The guys come to the front of the stage to interact. Pink hair waves calmly to Mattsun with an easy smile, and Mattsun waves back, looks at the guy for something significant for him, and the chances he’ll ever see him again are low. Bokuto tosses his sticks one by one into the audience, which means he thought it was a really good show because sticks aren’t _that_ cheap. Suga shakes hands in both of his and winks again at the girl who answered correctly before the show started. Given her prize, she swoons.

Another girl with long black braids, deep red lipstick, and winged eyeliner holds a slip of paper up toward Kuroo, between two fingers like a cigarette. He kneels in front of her: _You from KBU?_

Kuroo’s M.O.: generally night gigs, lots from The Room since he can be back at the house straight after. At away gigs like this, he either forgets it for the day or pulls a number, always asking the same line, almost always getting the same answer. If the answer is in fact a no, and especially if she’s from out of state, the paper gets dropped on the ground somewhere backstage.

This time, he smiles and pockets the phone number when Kageyama reads her lips: _I am_ _._ Tomorrow is Sunday; another one bites the dust.

Real Pants watches the whole thing.

“Tobio.”

Kageyama pulls his gaze away from that vivid orange and looks at Akaashi.

“Help out?” Akaashi asks, tilting his head toward the stage.

Kageyama follows him back.


	2. Normal, SC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah--this fic is for incompetentbrain and yeah_bananas, who know what this really is.

It’s a co-owned van between Kuroo and Suga, but Kuroo always drives. The backseat is just a cheap bracket-shaped couch, Mattsun and Akaashi on the ends and Kageyama and Bokuto in the middle. They’re headed home after packing up from the show with Suga playing his Tetris game of not hurting any instruments while shoving them in the back, bickering with Kuroo over the right way to do it because he’s kind of neurotic when he’s not in his stage persona, and Kuroo is just arrogant.

Bokuto is busy kicking his heels, worked up from the Adderall and the post-show excitement. Kageyama will admit, it was a pretty good one. “So good,” Bokuto says, playing some rhythm on the seat. “ _So_ good.”

“It’d be great if I thought anyone important saw it,” Kuroo says. He drives with one hand on the wheel and the other elbow propped on the window frame.

“I’m doing social right now,” Kageyama tells them. On the floor in front of them, the hi-hat that never fits in the trunk rattles since Bokuto didn’t take the cymbals off. “Done,” he says, hitting post on Instagram after adding the caption: _You’re good to us, Savannah_.

He got some good shots: close ones on Suga where his sweat-slash-water is visible in beads on his skin; Kuroo when he walked back to play near Bokuto for a while during “Ultraviolet Moth”’; Bokuto as he spun a stick in the air, which was a pretty lucky shot since he doesn’t do it at any regular points in any song; Mattsun pushing a fader up with his middle finger, unconsciously. Even a few of the crowd—something Kageyama does for most shows since the fans like seeing themselves on the accounts. He can definitely see Bob and MCR tee and pink hair and the girl that’ll be at the house with Kuroo tomorrow, and maybe that’s Real Pants over there on the edge, but he’s too short to tell for sure. He squints at it.

“We don’t have another show tomorrow, right?” Suga asks, turning around to look at Akaashi.

Akaashi hums a no. “Next Saturday. Like usual.”

Suga nods and looks at Kuroo or out the window next to him.

“I’ll probably ask for work tomorrow anyway,” Bokuto says. “Weekend differential. Daishou will be on.”

“Who’s Daishou again?” Suga asks.

“Daishou’s a piece of shit.” Kuroo flicks a cigarette from his pack with one hand and sticks it in his lips, drops the box in the cupholder next to him and gets his lighter from his pocket. “Cocky prick with privilege,” he says, the cigarette wiggling like a seismograph needle. He lights, draws, exhales.

Bokuto pushes his lips out. “Well, I mean. Not always.” He looks down at his fingers.

“You know him?” Suga asks.

Kuroo shrugs more with his jaw than his shoulder. “I met him once at some thing on campus last year. He just comes off as a complete tool. And he’s in the wrong kind of stuff.”

“Like school?” Akaashi says, deadpan.

Kuroo shrugs again. “Whatever.” He blows out. Suga leans a little further away and Kuroo opens his window.

“He works and he’s a history major, so…he’s a good guy,” Bokuto says, nodding. He messes with his ribbon on his arm. The rest of them have theirs off already, but Bokuto wears his every day.

“With rich parents and a Porsche and two girlfriends at once,” Kuroo says.

Bokuto looks like he’ll try to say something else, and at least one of them wants to call Kuroo out even though what he does is not quite the same thing, but nobody says anything and that’s the end of it.

“It was a good one today, guys,” Suga says. “Thank you to Keiji for getting us in.”

“And Tobio for the videos that made them say yes,” Akaashi adds.

“And everyone for being freaking _awesome_ ,” Bokuto says. A smile goes around.

“What else is coming up?” Kuroo asks. His eyes land on Akaashi in the rearview.

Akaashi shrugs. “I mean, we’re kind of always welcome at The Room.”

“So nothing.” He takes a long drag then tosses the butt of his cigarette out the window.

Suga rolls his eyes in the side mirror. Kageyama pretends he doesn’t notice because then he can’t be in it emotionally.

“It’s not easy for Keiji,” Mattsun says, leaning forward a bit toward Kuroo, elbows on his knees. He’s the only one who could say something right now and not make Kuroo angrier because he’s just that chill. “And good gigs don’t happen every week.”

Kuroo frowns, brows pulling together. “I want something bigger. We’re limited now.”

He rolls his window up and the tension rises with it. They all know they played more shows last year when they could do some weekday evenings too, but Suga is in supervised research now for his last term and doesn’t have the time. He’s a linguistics major, writes datasets for neurological studies on language, which Kageyama barely knew was a thing until they met. He thought that saying his major is architecture was cool before Suga explained what he does. Which, it is, but he doesn’t actually know what he’s doing with, like, Gothic spires.

Point is, weeknights are out and Kuroo isn’t happy about it.

“Well, luckily the good gigs are usually weekends anyway, right?” Kageyama offers.

Kuroo says, “Half the time we can’t even—”

“Let’s not get on this right now,” Suga says curtly. He crosses his arms and presses back into his seat. Kageyama watches him not blink in the side mirror, looking straight out the windshield at the road as they make a right turn that will take them home pretty soon. “We’re doing our fucking best,” he says quietly.

An uncomfortable silence falls, save for the hi-hat refusing to shut up. It’s hard to get Suga to swear when he’s not onstage—he’s more twenty-nine than twenty-two—and it cuts the air. Kuroo may be how he is, and he may be six-two and the one driving and the oldest of them all, but Suga is still the leader of this band. But—crisis sort of averted, even though the awkwardness prickles at the hair on the back of Kageyama’s neck.

“It’s five weeks till the end of the semester,” Bokuto says slowly. It’s strange coming from the only one of them who isn’t or wasn’t a student. Kageyama wonders what he means.

Within a few minutes their sign reads chipped colorful paint while the sun dips down behind it, exclaiming in a sad, desperate way: Welcome to Normal!

“This fucking town,” Kuroo mutters.

It’s ten p.m. by the time they hit the house. It’s a three-one in the historic district, wooden and old, and the bathroom is pastel green with a clawfoot tub straight from the ‘60s—but the rent is undeniably cheap. It beats Kageyama’s dorm any day regardless of the condition since it costs way less and the roommates don’t come in at two a.m. wasted. He’s really jealous of Akaashi getting the last of a group of eight studios off campus for less than his parents pay—which naturally makes him feel guilty—and of Suga basically living alone because his roommate has a girlfriend who has a house, so he’s never in their apartment.

The only reason he and Bokuto don’t live together this year is because he wanted to be on campus (huge mistake) and because Bokuto appreciated the invitation and low price when Kuroo found this house at the start of term. Kageyama basically spends all of his free time here anyway.

Twenty minutes to get everything where it’s supposed to go. The synth goes left from the doorway into Mattsun’s room, the bass and their amps into Kuroo’s to the right, and the drum kit further down the hall into the living room. Even if there was a studio around for them to use, they’d probably nix it anyway because of fees. They’ve done this so many times before that it’s become automatic and easy regardless. As far as noise—the next house over is at least forty yards away.

When they’re done, Mattsun goes straight to the kitchen, gets a glass of water, and sits to stare at the table. He’s an extremely nonconfrontational guy, the most relaxed and pacifistic person they know. Kageyama figures he needs a breather because of what happened in the van, and on top of that, there’s the fact that he has early class on Mondays and today was taken up by travel and gig, so he’ll need tomorrow to get everything done. Kageyama feels it. The guy just needs a good night’s sleep for once, or something to take his mind off things.

Suga says he’ll walk home, but Kuroo says he’ll drive him, but Suga says it’s only fifteen, he can walk, and it’s more like twenty-five but Kuroo gives up. Kageyama watches Suga go, and Kuroo goes into his room. Akaashi and Bokuto start down the hallway toward the kitchen, but Kageyama brushes them into Bokuto’s room instead. They both glance at Mattsun at the table then bank a left to follow Kageyama’s hands.

“Jesus,” Akaashi sighs quietly, sitting on Bokuto’s bed. Bokuto sits next to him and kisses his temple.

Kageyama leaves the door just ajar. He takes Bokuto’s rolling desk chair. “Mattsun’s stressed.”

“I don’t blame him,” Akaashi says. “It’s weird when they argue like that. Nobody’s comfortable.”

“I mean, I get where Kuroo is coming from,” Bokuto says, messing with the ends of his ribbon. “But he comes off kind of…” He shrugs.

Like an asshole. But that’s Kuroo. His passion for the band doesn’t translate well.

“I just wish it wouldn’t mess with Issei sometimes, you know?” Kageyama leans back into the chair. “He’s got enough on his plate already.”

“It’s irritating,” Akaashi says. “What’s the point? I mean, I guess it’s good that Suga says something. I don’t know.”

They all just shake their heads.

They a pause for a while, listening to the cicadas outside the window. Kageyama swivels in the chair, spins around twice. In the hallway, Mattsun’s footsteps go to his room.

“Wanna do something?” Kageyama offers. He spins back to look at his friends, and they’re doing that lovey smile at each other. Akaashi touches his fingertip against the middle of Bokuto’s chin.

“I’m staying,” Akaashi says, not looking away from Bokuto’s eyes.

Bokuto sends Kageyama a flick of his hand: _He just did the chin thing, dude. Beat it._

Well, it _was_ a good show.

“Loud and clear. Night, guys,” he says. They say good night, and he closes Bokuto’s door on his way out. When he gets to Mattsun’s door, he calls through the crack, “Sleep.”

Mattsun makes an _uhn_ sound back. Kageyama imagines him already sitting with schoolwork in front of him.

“You’ll want to.” Mattsun and Bokuto share a wall, and Bokuto’s bed is against it.

A pause from the room. “Great,” Mattsun says. “Got it.”

“Night.” Kageyama pulls his door closed, pats it, and gets out of there.


	3. Ground Control

_MONDAY_

* * *

“Thanks for this, dude.” Kageyama shoves his last piece of sushi in his mouth, drenched in three kinds of sauce. “I’ll get you back on something,” he mumbles.

Mattsun shrugs and sips from his pomegranate juice thermos. “It’s cool. This is my main sustenance anyway.” He only had one roll. “If my dad asks, I’ll just tell him you covered me another day.”

In his two-block break, Mattsun was kind enough to pay for his lunch. Suga is on two scholarships, Akaashi’s parents cover him for everything, and Kageyama has financial aid, but Mattsun comes from real money—not that he really has it. He gets a strict allowance from stricter parents, business-oriented and authoritarian, especially his dad. They’re not huge fans of the band.

“I still owe you,” Kageyama says, but Mattsun waves it off. “How are the parents?”

Mattsun tilts his head. “Sometimes I wonder if I should get a VPN.”

“Yikes. Database after this, or?”

“Venture capital and private equity.”

Kageyama raises his eyebrows and looks down. “Yeesh. All my classes are like, arch three, physics one. You and Akaashi have weird stuff.”

“You’re telling me.”

Matsukawa Issei: third year, business finance major paid for by his parents, for his parents’ firm. No free time ever between school and band. Doesn’t really like his major but sucks it up for the sake of filial piety and capitalism. He’s easy to get along with but introverted, with impostor syndrome and a Xanax scrip he rarely uses—panic attack once or twice a month. Evidently, his essential daily medicine is that juice.

“Rough week ahead?” Kageyama asks.

Mattsun shrugs, sipping. “No more than usual.”

So yes. “That sucks.”

“We’ll have the show on Saturday, though. I kind of like The Room, you know? We get paid for crap but it’s like, chill.”

“Comfortable,” Kageyama agrees. “Familiar faces.”

Mattsun hums, looking across the room at nothing. His eyes are their usual lidded calm behind his glasses.

Should he say it? He should say it.

“I saw you wave to that pink-haired guy at the festival,” Kageyama says, pushing his wasabi around in case he’s wrong. “In front.”

Mattsun tilts his head slowly. “Did I?” Then he snaps his fingers and comes back to it. “Dude. Advertising.”

Kageyama drops his chopsticks. “Oh, crap. I’ve got another hour—I’ll go see our dealer.” It’s a twenty-minute walk from here to their dealer’s building literally across campus. In eighties weather. The things he does as media manager.

Mattsun does his low, chesty laugh, adjusting his glasses. “That’s a fine word for him. Nice double meaning, huh.”

Kageyama nods. “He’d appreciate it. Thanks again, by the way.”

Mattsun stands from the table. “Let’s go. I have to learn about preferred return and clawback provision.”

Kageyama follows him out. “Whatever that is.”

“You’re telling me.”

The art building is arctic, but it has empty rooms with natural lighting ideal for painters. He pushes into the usual room and for now just ignores the giant canvas of abstract graffiti, or maybe it’s rainbow viscera or maybe it represents love or, in light of lunch with Mattsun, capitalism. “Hey.”

Tendou turns around to him, a smile curving onto his lips. “ _Aloha_. It’s been a bit.”

“It’s thirty degrees in here,” Kageyama breathes.

“Sixty-something, give or take. Good for the paints.” He waves the brush in his hand, the head of it blood red with paint. “What can I get for you? The usual?”

Kageyama nods. “Two rolls, please.”

“No surprise. Give me a second.”

Tendou stands from his stool and disappears behind a door to what Kageyama figures is the art supply room, or else some magic place where Tendou always seems to have unlimited rolls of ribbon that Kageyama doesn’t even have to pay for. The guy pulls a consistent, somehow completely unnoticed heist on the art department. Kageyama stares at the capitalism and rubs his arms.

Tendou returns and hands two rolls of their usual to him: satin ribbon, shiny, artery red. “Order up.”

“Sweet. Thanks.” Kageyama puts them in his backpack then gestures to the canvas. Tendou’s paintings have always had a creepy, unnerving, and at times gory quality to them. A glimpse inside his mind would probably freak Kageyama out. “That’s cool,” he says. “Agonizing and uplifting.”

Tendou puts a hand on his hip and looks with him. “Thanks. I took some messed up mushrooms and had a vision of whatever it is.”

Whether or not Tendou makes people who aren’t Kageyama pay for the art supplies he provides, Kageyama doesn’t know, but they do pay for the other things he deals. He’s one of the most popular on campus, with what he says is only a few rivals with different specialties—some for prescription pills, some for weed, a guy who only does things you brew into tea. If you want psychedelics, Tendou is your man.

Kageyama thinks about telling him the painting is capitalism, but he might sound really dumb. “Bad trip paid off, huh?”

Tendou laughs. “Oh, it was a great trip, just messed up. I thought I didn’t have irises and that I could see into the half dimension.” He squints at the canvas. “Whatever that is.” He claps his hands and Kageyama watches his eyes widen out. “I’m gonna name it that. _The Half Dimension_.”

Kageyama nods. “Nice. Thanks again.”

“Sure. Might come to the show this weekend if this thing finishes itself.” Tendou flicks a lanky hand at his painting.

“We appreciate it.” He turns on his heel and waves a hand over his shoulder. “Catch you.”

On his way back to the architecture building, he goes through the center of campus, passing the concrete tables under the trees by the chemistry hall. He’s this close to losing his thoughts to what he’s going to eat later and almost turns right without noticing Maybe Real Pants sitting there at a table with a friend.

Wait—what? No way.

He looks again.

_No, it’s definitely you_. His hair is just as orange in the sun as before.

Kageyama stops, pauses, then keeps walking so he doesn’t look conspicuous, slower now. Right—Real Pants is a student here if he’s been to The Room before. He’s wearing grey trousers with cuffs and a pair of dirty white Reeboks with laces the same color as his hair. It completely doesn’t match, but Kageyama can’t say anything with his ninety-percent-hoodies wardrobe.

“Where’d you go on Saturday again?” the friend asks. He has short blond hair and disinterest crawling on his face behind rectangular glasses. He has a three-subject notebook open from what Kageyama can see, pages filthy with notes in some other language.

“I saw Something Cool in Savannah.”

Glasses makes a face. “Yeah, what was it?”

_Bo, you genius._

“No, that’s the band name.”

“Oh, right. Still not over that crush.”

“Thanks, Tsukki.”

“Uh, can we help you?”

He forgot to walk and he’s staring. Tsukki and Real Pants are both giving him weird looks. Naturally, a little nervously, he goes to them.

He bows his head a little. “Hey, guys. Uh, listen, thanks for coming to the show this weekend.” He looks at Real Pants, maybe kind of obviously, and Tsukki’s sharp brows go up, completely aware and equally unimpressed.

“Oh. Um.” Real Pants glances sideways at his friend. “I don’t remember… What do you play again?”

Kageyama rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry—I don’t. Akaashi and I don’t play, but we manage. We’re like a full six. Do you follow our social?”

“Yeah,” Pants says. He glances sideways at Tsukki, but he’s hardly paying attention.

“Cool, thanks for the support. And don’t worry, you’re not the first one to say that…” He lets the word trail out, puts a hand out in question.

“Hinata Shouyou.” He smiles, and Kageyama blinks, blinded. Can teeth get that bright and perfect?

“Shouyou and Tsukki,” Kageyama says. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“That’s Tsukishima.” Tsukishima turns his head with a flash of lenses and gives Kageyama a flat look.

“Sorry. I’ll remember that,” Kageyama says. Hinata is staring up at him with these big eyes and he shifts on his feet, wiggling his hands around in his pockets. “Um—yeah, I overheard when you said the band name. Meta, huh? Bokuto came up with it.”

“That’s the drummer,” Hinata tells Tsukishima. He looks delighted to know.

Kageyama gestures at him. “True fan.”

Hinata shrugs. “Well, I didn’t know you, so.” He makes a sudden, worried face and puts his hands up. “Ah—sorry! That came out wrong.” He laughs and touches his hair.

Oh, so he’s _that_ kind of cute. “No big deal. I just run the Instagram and Twitter accounts anyway. Kageyama, by the way. Tobio.”

Hinata snaps his fingers and smiles again, even brighter than before. “Right, you’ve been in some of the group photos, haven’t you.”

Should he be offended that Hinata had no memory of him? Probably not, since he knows he’s not the one Hinata’s ever looking at. He’s the plainest of their group and doesn’t spend time on stage, so the fact that Hinata recognizes him at all is one foot forward.

“A few,” he says. It comes out a little shaky and he clears his throat.

“Well, nice to meet you too, Kageyama Tobio.” Hinata is tan, a great color match for the hair. His skin in the sun is… “You’re good at the job,” he says.

Kageyama gets a surge of pride, or hormones, or both. “Thanks. Really.”

Tsukishima is so interested in this that he _must_ look at his notes.

“So…” Hinata turns a little more to face him fully, still smiling. “What’s your major?”

Kageyama scratches his head, pretending like his heart isn’t beating really hard. “Uh, architecture. I’m kind of still figuring it out, but architecture.”

“Architecture is cool. I’m neurobiological science,” Hinata says, then hooks a thumb at Tsukishima. “Germanic studies.”

“Nice,” Kageyama says, dumbly. _Think of at least more than one word, stupid._

“I’m working fluent in German, proficient in Danish,” Tsukishima tells him.

“And now he’s learning Icelandic,” Hinata says, lifting an eyebrow at the notebook. “And I’m fluent in neurotransmitters, if that counts.”

Kageyama smiles, a quirk up of the corner of his mouth. It’s the most he usually musters, but it’s happening on its own with Hinata. “I’m fluent in Gothic revival and art deco and, I don’t know,” he shrugs, “elementary physics.”

“That’s really cool, actually.” Hinata’s eyebrows go up a little—actual curiosity—and he has huge brown eyes with more than one shade in his irises, and short but dark lashes and that thick orange hair and a cute voice. Even his posture is good, and he puts his full attention on Kageyama’s face, looking directly into his eyes like nothing else in the moment matters.

Ground Control to Major Tobio.

“Th-thanks. Yours too,” Kageyama manages. Hinata smiles at him again, and he has to take a deliberate breath. “Hey, we’ve got another show at The Room this Saturday if you want to come. Uh—you too.” He nods at Tsukishima.

Tsukishima glances back at him. He pushes up his glasses.

“I was planning on it, but don’t bet on him,” Hinata tells him. “He’s kind of a mood killer anyway.” Tsukishima glares, but Hinata giggles and nudges him on the shoulder.

Cute laugh. _Cute laugh._

From behind him: “Oh no, I’m _late_ , I’m sorry!”

Hinata looks past Kageyama, and Tsukishima immediately sits up and turns toward the voice. Kageyama looks to see a second friend—another guy, jeans shorts and an untucked short-sleeved button-up with daisies all over it, hair half pulled back into a little sprout behind him, freckles smattering his cheekbones, and a huge grin. He’s carrying a red plant in a ceramic pot in both hands.

Hinata laughs. “And this is Yamaguchi Tadashi.”

Already introducing him to new friends unprompted? That’s like, half base.

“They had ruby slippers, guys,” Yamaguchi says. He smiles at Kageyama. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

Kageyama nods to him. “Hey. Nice plant.”

He looks genuinely appreciative. “Thank you.”

“Took you long enough to get here,” Tsukishima mutters. Yamaguchi grins again and claps him hard on the back. Tsukishima fixes his glasses.

“Botany,” Hinata says.

Kageyama nods. “Nice. Hey, bring everyone. We’re paid based on numbers.” Hinata nods, and Kageyama says, “I’ll see you guys around? I have arch theory one starting soon. Really nice to meet you.” He says it to all of them and means it, but he only looks at Hinata.

Hinata smiles one more time, right at him. “You too.”

Kageyama nods at Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, then starts back for that right turn he almost made before and is seriously glad he didn’t.

“Who was that?” Yamaguchi asks behind him.

“Kageyama Tobio,” Hinata says. “Architecture.”

“Oh, cool! He gives off good person energy.”

“Really?” Tsukishima says. “We must have met two different people.”

“Better energy than yours,” Yamaguchi sighs. “My plants die around you.”

Kageyama hears the sound of a notebook fluttering and Hinata’s bright giggle, and he smiles again as he gets out of there.


	4. Purple

_THURSDAY_

* * *

Thursday night is free for Bokuto—the only weekday he’s guaranteed off every week. At four p.m. after classes, Kageyama walks into the house, closing the door behind him and swinging his backpack onto one shoulder. The A/C is on and something smells like burned plastic alongside the usual reek of Kuroo’s cigarettes. Mattsun’s room is empty—he’ll be in international accounts management until six. To his right, Kuroo’s door is closed, which means one of three things, but the bass is on and being played so he’s not sleeping, and girls can’t come over until minimum seven o’clock. Kageyama looks around for the backpack or shoes to signal it, but Suga must have taken them into Kuroo’s room with him.

“Tobe?”

Kageyama goes to Bokuto’s doorway. He’s sitting on his bed with his blankets scrunched up around him, hooked over his head and squishing his hair down into his eyes. “It’s me,” Kageyama says.

Bokuto beams and raises his arms in the air, tossing away a book about coding. “You’re here!”

Kageyama chuckles. Bokuto does the arms thing maybe sixty percent of the time—has been doing it since they were in like second grade. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“I don’t know.” Bokuto shrugs. “I’m just happy you’re here.” His hair is dry and feathery in his face, the purple dye fading out.

Kageyama smiles a little and kicks off his shoes. “Me too. Suga here?”

“What do you think?”

Kageyama nods. When he steps on Bokuto’s rug, things stick into the bottoms of his socks. He looks down at a bunch of different colored beads everywhere. “Practicing? And what’s with these?”

“I was making something this morning but my hands were like, shaky for whatever reason and I spilled them everywhere and started crying.”

Kageyama brushes his feet on the carpet, drops his backpack on the floor, and jumps up onto Bokuto’s bed in front of him. “What was it?”

“Dunno. I lit it on fire.” He sniffs and glances at his bedside table stacked with other books about cranial surgery, sugar, flat earth. He looks toward his door. “I guess they’re practicing. He’s the only one who ever shuts his door all the way.”

“Only when they’re together,” Kageyama sighs. “Two years and I still don’t get it.”

“Three for them,” Bokuto reminds him.

Kageyama nods, raising his eyebrows.

Their thing is weird, whatever it is. Kuroo’s body count is high and female; he’s as straight as they come, straight from his mouth. Suga barely expresses interest in anyone and never talks about it. He could be asexual or something, but who knows. He acts around Kuroo in ways he doesn’t around others, can’t stand a lot of Kuroo’s bullshit and usually says something about it, but is kind with the rest of them, naturally averse to hurting feelings. He goes into Kuroo’s room alone all the time to “work on music,” and it’s the only time Kuroo ever closes his door unless he’s with a girl or asleep. That exception must mean something…right?

Suga is a very good-looking person, with traits that both girls and other guys like, and Kuroo couldn’t be called picky aside from gender. They formed the band when they met Kageyama and Bokuto at one of Kageyama’s dual enrollment events, where Suga was volunteering and had dragged Kuroo along. They eventually found Mattsun, who happened to know Akaashi from a class, etcetera. Kuroo has been playing since fourth grade and Suga’s just a wizard of a singer, so something about that must have clicked or the band wouldn’t exist. Something about them.

But there’s no proof. No verbal, visual, even auditory evidence of it happening. Nothing to substantiate. They’re all just pretty sure.

“But me either,” Bokuto adds. “They should just say it if they are. Everyone knows me and Kaashi sleep together all the time.”

Kageyama snorts. He actually thinks Bokuto and Akaashi’s relationship is pretty cool. Akaashi has been really great for him. “You guys are going steady,” he says. “Is he coming over?”

Bokuto hums and nods. “In a bit. He’s finishing some homework.” He pushes his ribbon up on his arm.

“Cool.” Kageyama looks around, then motions to the book Bokuto threw on the floor. “So, what’s up with that?”

“No, dude, it’s—like, there’s proof out there.”

“Yeah?”

Bokuto is a _the moon landing was fake_ kind of guy. He has trust issues and mood swings, and he’s already nuts to begin with, but he’s gullible and susceptible, too. He gets a lot of questionable information from equally questionable books and the internet, soaks it all in, and isn’t discriminate in what he chooses to believe.

Twenty minutes later, Kageyama is leaned back against the wall and Bokuto is going off on another conspiratorial tangent.

He hikes the blankets further up over his head and gives Kageyama a look like he’s crazy. “Uh, yeah, dude. Doctors and hospitals just want to leech your money whether they’re making you better or sicker. They literally _make_ you sicker so you fork over more, you know that? They’re like, the third leading cause of death in the world. It’s terrible and it freaks me out. They—” He cuts off suddenly and glowers at the wall. His shoulders slump down and he hugs the blanket around his neck. “They don’t even do anything, anyway,” he mutters.

At the site of the crash, Bokuto’s parents were too far gone for life-saving treatment as it was, but he says there are records that the people in the ambulance didn’t do as much as they should have.

It’s the sixteenth today? Two and a half months.

Bokuto shakes his head quickly, pushing the thoughts away with a sway of his bangs. “And universities are the same. Implanting data and false information in your mind and then telling you to be critical so that you believe them even more, like they actually care about you, you know?”

“We’re just sheep,” Kageyama says, playing along. This isn’t Bokuto’s first rant over his institutional suspicion.

Bokuto snaps his fingers. “Exactly, dude. They’re always watching.”

Kageyama nods gravely.

“Did the air conditioner shut off?” Bokuto says. He pulls the blankets off his head, making part of his hair stick up, and starts shoving at his covers.

He flips part of a blanket behind him and Kageyama sees a purple Ziploc bag next to his thigh, three unfamiliar pills inside. He tilts his chin at it. “What’s that?”

Bokuto looks at him, looks at the bag. He stops moving his hands. “Oh. It’s my latest. I had to get more, uh, recently.” He looks back in Kageyama’s general direction.

The purple bag is new, and the pills aren’t orange and not the right size. It’s not his usual Adderall.

_You’ve never been good at lying, Bo_. “Yeah?”

Bokuto nods, looking across his room at the wall, flicking his gaze quickly. In a bind, he always starts moving his head like a bird. “Yeah,” he says.

_Not good enough._

But Kageyama will pry another day because the front door is opening down the hall.

“I love the smell of lung cancer in the afternoon.”

Bokuto picks up the purple bag and tosses it onto his dresser where it skitters behind a stack of Tarantino DVDs. “Babe,” he calls.

Akaashi appears in the threshold, hand on the frame, backpack over his shoulder, a smudge of oil on the ankle of his skinny jeans from his bike. “What is he smoking, Solo cups?” he asks, hooking a thumb back toward the hallway.

“Watch out for the beads,” Kageyama tells him.

Akaashi looks at the floor and then up at Bokuto. “Project?”

“Burned it.”

“I see.” He comes toward the bed and Bokuto scoots over to let him drop his backpack and sit down next to him. Bokuto puckers out his lips, but Akaashi gestures toward Kageyama. When Bokuto pouts, Akaashi kisses his fingertip and puts it in the middle of Bokuto’s chin. Bokuto smiles and lets his hand rest on Akaashi’s thigh.

_Just because you don’t kiss doesn’t mean you’re not PDA-ing everywhere_ , Kageyama thinks, but he would never say that.

“How was your day, babe?” Bokuto asks. “Can I get you anything?”

Akaashi smiles at him. “No, thank you. And better now. Is Suga here?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything?”

“Bass, talking.”

“Mm.”

“Test go well?” Kageyama asks, crossing his legs out in front of him and putting his hands behind his head.

Akaashi shrugs. “Probably. I know how to run basic data processing and talk about it, so.”

“But aren’t finals soon?” Bokuto asks

“In the grand scheme of uni, four weeks is a long time,” Akaashi says prophetically.

Kageyama mutters back, “Tell me about it.”

He’s been waiting for the chance to run into Hinata again. He missed his timing yesterday, but tomorrow he’ll go by the tables outside the chem building again just to see if it’s a usual spot for Hinata while trying not to be creepy about it. Still, he’s really hoping Hinata will come to the show on Saturday. He doesn’t know of any other chances he has.

Bokuto sighs. “Oh.”

“Did you guys see that pink-haired guy at the Savannah gig?” Kageyama asks them.

“Front row, off to the right?” Akaashi offers.

Kageyama nods. “Recognize him?”

Synchronized shrugs. “Probably from Columbia. Or further.” Bokuto gathers his blankets again, offering one to Akaashi who declines with a shake of his head.

Kageyama nods. “Right. I was wondering if he went here, but.”

“You into him?” Bokuto asks. “I think he was taller than you.”

“Nah,” Kageyama says. “Mattsun was looking at him.”

A pause. Bokuto sighs out slowly. “Ah, man.”

“He needs it,” Akaashi says.

“A lay?” Kageyama asks.

Akaashi shrugs. “Affection, I suppose.”

Nicely put, though it makes Kageyama kind of sad. Mattsun is one of the best guys any of them know despite his life being a shitty, anxiety-riddled mess of school and parents. The fact that he consistently makes time to be in this band with them means a ton. He deserves something like that.

Kageyama makes a mental note to buy one of those way overpriced bottles of Pom next time he’s coming here.

“Totally,” Bokuto says. He has chunks of a blanket in his fists and keeps rubbing them back and forth.

“Did that girl end up coming over on Sunday?” Akaashi asks.

Bokuto shoves his blanket fists against his eyes and rubs. “Dude.”

Kageyama slept until two that day and didn’t come over because of assignments, so he must have missed it. Thank god. “That bad?” he asks.

“I can’t remember a more theatrical one so far,” Bokuto says, muffled behind the blanket. He lowers his hands and says, “And the worst part is that it might have actually been legit.” He shivers.

Akaashi laughs. “Wow. I’m not surprised.” He smiles again, softly, and he’s handsome in this plain, elegant way that works well for him. When Mattsun first introduced him to everyone, Kageyama had a brief sort of attraction that faded in an instant when he saw Bokuto’s major heart eyes. He’s level-headed and dry and kind of terse, and the fact that he does smile like that with Bokuto is what’s so cool about it all in Kageyama’s mind.

“So no work with that Daishou guy, then?” Akaashi asks.

“Huh?” Bokuto says, strangely loud. His eyes go to his dresser but he fixes himself and grins back at Akaashi. “No, just Monday like usual.”

Akaashi hums. His smile is gone.

Okay, Jesus. Akaashi is too perceptive and suddenly the tension is painful. Kageyama will do literally anything to diffuse this right now because he just got here like half an hour ago and doesn’t want to leave yet. Going back to his dorm means no friends, and no excuse to not do his homework. He says, “Did you see this other guy, uh—way off on the corner, wearing like actual real pants? Like, slacks.”

Bokuto’s face gives away his equal gratitude for the out. “Tangerine head?” He snorts. “I think I got blinded every time I looked over in his direction.”

_I think I get the feeling,_ Kageyama thinks.

Butterflies? In his chest? Nah.

“He was really focused on the stage,” Bokuto adds. “Knew the songs, too.”

Kageyama smiles awkwardly. “Yeah, that one.”

Bokuto looks at his face. He seems to realize it, and his eyes widen, golden and bright. “Oh, you’re serious. Him?”

“Yeah.” Kageyama moves his legs around, but ends up putting them back exactly where they were. “I’ve seen him before. At The Room.”

“What even is your type?”

“So he goes here?” Akaashi asks.

Kageyama nods and wiggles his shoulders—his embarrassment coming out physically. “Yeah. I actually met him on Monday.”

Both sets of eyebrows go up. “Like, _met him_ met him?” Bokuto asks.

“No like,” he waves an uncomfortable hand, “I met him. I saw him on campus randomly.”

“Oh. Well, I’ve never noticed him before,” Bokuto says, looking to Akaashi for confirmation.

Akaashi shakes his head. “Me either. So, not pink hair—orange hair?”

Kageyama shrugs in answer. “I guess. Something tells me he wouldn’t be into it anyway.” He looks toward the doorway again. Down the hall, he hears the low humming of the bass cut off. If he squints, he can just barely hear Suga’s voice saying something.

“Why not?” Akaashi asks, and Bokuto guesses, “Straight?”

Kageyama inclines his head to the side. “No.” He crosses his arms further behind his head, relaxing into them like he isn’t freaking out over the idea inside. “He’s always staring at Kuroo.”

Akaashi does his short laugh, touches the front of his hair. “Good luck to him.”

From the hallway, Suga calls goodbye to all of them and they answer back. The front door closes and the sound of the bass starts again.

“Timing,” Akaashi says.

In Kageyama’s head, he hears Mattsun saying _You’re telling me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I didn't know how else to spell Tobe. Pronounced like "toe-b" not like tobe fly... rip


	5. The Room

_SATURDAY_

* * *

From behind the stage on the left side, Kageyama can see that the girl from the Savannah show with dark lipstick and eyeliner isn’t in the crowd tonight. If she were, she’d be up front, stage right. “Got what she wanted last time,” he says.

“Hm?” Akaashi is busy on his phone. He pushes up the ribbon on his arm the same way Bokuto does all the time.

“Nothing.” Kageyama squints out to see the crowd in the dim light again, going up on his toes.

The opener is just ending. Suga is in a light blue version of his usual fake silk in the middle of the stage, talking to the crowd. Mattsun has his thermos; Kuroo isn’t supposed to smoke in here but he’s lighting one anyway. Bokuto’s hands are clenching tight around his sticks, and his left leg is bouncing over the pedal of his hi-hat which could be making noise, but Kageyama can’t tell over the capacity of the place. The Room is actually almost full tonight. Maybe they’ll get paid more.

“You know,” Akaashi says at his screen, “I doubt we’ll get more for tonight even though we’re full.”

“Same.”

For some reason, Kageyama would have expected Hinata to be early—one of those arrives excitedly ten minutes before types. But he figures it’s just as well that he’s arriving now and pulling Tsukishima to the front. Their height difference and the dead look on Tsukishima’s face makes it an interesting scene—and a cute one, if he only looks at Hinata, which isn’t hard to do. No Yamaguchi. Shame.

A sudden, horrible thought strikes him: that Hinata and Tsukishima could be dating. But, no—not with Tsukishima fully aware of Hinata’s crush on a certain bassist. And not with the way Tsukishima only cared about anything when Yamaguchi showed up.

Still, he could use some more info. More recon.

“That’s my cue,” he says.

“Hm?” Akaashi hums again.

He ignores Akaashi ignoring him and goes around the stage. As he passes by stage left, he sees Mattsun’s fingers preparing the synth settings for the next song and calls up, “Don’t go too classical on us.”

Without looking at him, Mattsun smiles, adjusting his glasses. “Big Father is always watching.”

At the front of the stage, Kageyama slides his way into the crowd—one perk of not being famous. He comes up behind Hinata, tucking his hands nervously into his pockets. Tsukishima notices him there but doesn’t say anything. Kageyama nods to him. “No botanist?” he says.

Hinata turns to him in a striped T-shirt and white shorts that hit at mid-thigh, and Kageyama’s not sure if it’s the shock from the lack of real pants or just the ensemble itself that has him staring. That smile doesn’t help.

“Orchid emergency,” Hinata explains. “He had to call the electric company.”

“Sounds rough.” He means it, but Tsukishima’s eyes pass on from the conversation elsewhere. Kageyama clears his throat and says, “I’m glad you guys could make it.”

“It was a struggle.” Hinata tilts his head at his friend.

“I have a test on Monday,” Tsukishima sighs.

“He says that as if he doesn’t already have everything memorized,” Hinata says. “Tsukki’s way smart.”

Kageyama nods. He figured that much. It’s not the glasses that give everything away—it’s the demeanor. “You’ve got the weekend to study,” he says. “No sweat. Have you heard us before?”

“He’s never been to a show,” Hinata says. “I’ve tried before, but I guess he needed a direct invite. He likes alternative, he’s just stubborn and old-hearted.” He puts his arm around Tsukishima’s waist and grins.

Tsukishima dusts Hinata’s arm away and looks across the room at nothing. “UK rock,” he mutters. “Like Tadashi listens to. Not this stuff.”

Kageyama pats himself on the back for reading Tsukishima like a book.

“Song two is a good one,” he plugs. “Imagine measures of Chopin sampled out, shuffled, and stapled back together. Followed by, well, Something Cool.”

“I’ll give you points for the name,” Tsukishima says. Kageyama figures that’s worth it.

“It is a really cool band name,” Hinata says. “And I’m glad we could come. Is ‘Penrose’ on the set tonight?”

“The Penrose Steps”: their most grungy, bass-heavy track; skilled fingers on Kuroo’s right hand never resting, left hand up and down the neck in some kind of metaphor the whole song, a long stretch of rhythm section alone. It’s impressive, no doubt about that.

Kuroo is sleeveless tonight in a black muscle tee, the tattoo of a hawk in flight visible on his ribs. The red ribbon draws attention to that thigh.

Kageyama keeps his sigh on the inside. “It’ll be fifth I think,” he admits.

Hinata smiles more. “Cool.”

Suga on stage: “Anyway, grab a drink and hold it tight, everyone. This next one is called ‘Silver Platter.’”

The crowd generally quiets down—lots of regulars, apparently—and even Hinata hushes Tsukishima (unnecessarily) and directs his attention towards stage left.

As far as the musicians go, they found Mattsun last. Kuroo and Suga had gotten their drummer and their social media manager, but thanks to Kageyama’s lack of any musical talent, they were still short with only a vocalist and rhythm section. Serendipity let Kageyama redeem himself when he found Mattsun in a music room alone, Chopin’s “Nocturne in C-Sharp Minor” flowing out of the body of a baby grand piano, the exact mood they were looking for. He’s been classically trained since he was four—his parents wanted a kid who could play a posh, elite-type instrument, and he had the natural hands and relaxed attitude for it.

Needless to say, the crowd is looking at him on stage now.

If this were a professional gig, the lights would dim save for a faded wash over Mattsun, blue maybe, but they’ll just have to imagine it in a place where they never make over five hundred a show. The song itself is minor key, 6/8 time which is fun for Bokuto, and really gritty—but the best part is the intro. When he wrote the sheet music, Kuroo left the first sixteen measures blank with the words _Stay in key_ above the lines on Mattsun’s score. He draws from his classical background—Debussy, Brahms, Rubinstein—and puts a Something Cool twist on it. It’s his time to shine, with the freedom to do whatever he wants. He improvises in the moment, and never plays the same thing twice.

The three of them and the crowd stand quietly listening to sixteen measures of what looks to be at least a little impressive to Tsukishima. Then comes the purposeful sound of Kuroo messing with his output jack and getting feedback on his amp, and then Mattsun presses one button, adjusts one pedal, and Kuroo slides down to his lowest F and everything is noise again. Good noise. Kageyama’s favorite noise.

“What do you think?” he calls out.

Tsukishima looks at him and shrugs one shoulder. “Your pianist is pretty good.”

Pride for Mattsun on that one. And approval from Tsukishima on the band is a plus, since Hinata is a fan.

“That’s the highest of compliments,” Hinata says.

Near the stage lights, his hair is fluorescent, highlighter bright. That chunk of it dips forward into the comma over his forehead, curled under at the end. _Cute hair_. _Cute face._

Kageyama watches him sing along with the chorus.

_Measure inheritance_

_Prepare your penitence_

_Sharpen your blade_

_And we’ll start a new chapter_

_Steady there where you stand_

_Hide the blood on your hands_

_Bring the benefactor’s head_

_On a silver platter_

One of Kuroo’s pieces on classism, the whole murdering a rich kid for being rich kind of thing. It has a steampunk meets Vaudeville vibe to it, which seems pretty _Vices and Virtues_ if you ask Kageyama, but he’d never say that to Kuroo. It sounds cool, and Suga gets to use his wicked voice, so Kageyama’s down.

Hinata looks like he’s down, too. Down for something, anyway.

It was stupid of him to ever think that Hinata and Tsukishima might have been dating. Is it just as foolish for him to think he has any chance? What is it about Kuroo? Bad boy charm? The older, untouchable, eBoyish thing he has? Or is that really just Hinata’s type, and Kageyama has already lost.

_Tell me what you’re thinking, Shou._

He squeezes his hands in his pockets, wondering if he should steal another glance at Hinata or not.

Tsukishima breaks his nerves by shouting, “I thought it was no smoking here.”

Kageyama almost laughs, relieved. “Yeah. That’s Kuroo for you.”

When the song comes to an end, Kageyama sees Bokuto trying to catch his eye. He looks over, and Bokuto points a stick at him, moves the end side to side for a second, raises his eyebrows. He makes a circle with his other hand and Kageyama manages to subtly flick him off before he gets his stick through it.

Kageyama wants to tell him he doesn’t think Hinata is like that, but he can’t from over here. As Bokuto is reaching into his pocket, an idea happens in Kageyama’s head. He says, “Let me take you to meet the guys after the show.”

Hinata and Tsukishima turn at the same time.

In the moment, Kageyama was expecting one of two things: discomfort from Hinata because they’re barely not strangers, or the casual agreement of someone so uninterested in being his S.O. that it seems completely normal to meet his friends two days in. The fool he is forgot option three.

Hinata’s eyes actually glint at the chance.

“Wow,” Tsukishima says, totally flat. “I’ve always wanted to be a groupie.”

“Wait, really?” Hinata asks. “Like, everyone?” He holds a shining gaze up at Kageyama.

This is what he gets for impulsive decisions. Well, there’s no going back. “Yeah, for sure,” he says nonchalantly. “We’re all just regular guys. And you’re only a groupie if you sleep with one of them.” He puts out an awkward finger gun.

Hinata ends up laughing at how hard Tsukishima sneers, so he’s in the clear.

“Well, unfortunately, I’ve got Icelandic noun case and declension classes to study, and there’s like a million of them, so I’ll be going after the set,” Tsukishima says.

Hinata clicks his tongue at him. “Seriously?”

“ _Test_ , Hinata.”

Hinata narrows his eyes. The way his nose scrunches… Kageyama briefly brings a hand to his chest. “You’re just gonna go to Tadashi’s house, aren’t you,” Hinata says. “You’re gonna leave me alone out here afterwards? You know I didn’t take my bike.”

“You’re not alone,” Tsukishima lilts, bending down condescendingly to lessen their height difference. “You have Kageyama.”

The sarcasm is undeniable, but the thought of protecting Hinata at night doesn’t exactly steady Kageyama’s heart. “I mean, I could walk you if you need,” he offers.

Hinata blinks away from where he had his hackles raised at Tsukishima and looks at Kageyama. He glances sideways and smiles awkwardly. “Ah—I’m just joking. It’s only like eight blocks.”

Ouch.

“He’s lying,” Tsukishima says. “It’s completely across campus—it’d take at least an hour by foot. And I already have an Uber. To the _dorm_.”

Kageyama watches the decision process go across Hinata’s face. Two options: safety and being with his friend? Or an opportunity at meeting an apparent god? Kageyama can’t even argue—he’d probably let Bokuto find his way home alone in a second if it meant a chance at talking more with Hinata. Speaking of, he said he’d walk to work with Bokuto tonight. Would he be an ass for going back on it?

“Well…you could wait with me for my apparent ride,” Hinata offers, tilting his head at Kageyama. “After I meet everyone.”

A valid compromise. He’ll take any crumbs. He’ll just be an ass for not helping pack up after the show. “Sure. Glad to.”

Hinata smiles with his lips together. They’re pink and smooth and very not chapped. “Thanks.”

“We love a happy ending,” Tsukishima says.

On stage, Suga says they’ve decided to play one of their older songs next, which means it’s not “Emotional Support Daydream Universe” like Kageyama was expecting because that’s their most recent piece. Either they switched the set or he’s just losing his memory, because the riff that Kuroo plays to open “Penrose” is clear over the crowd’s white noise.

Hinata only allows himself half a second to look at Kageyama like he told him wrong before locking in on his target.

Here’s hoping tonight’s second Uber driver shows up really late.

The guys end with “Manor” and everybody dies again while Hinata looks on at the whole bodies close together, hand over the eyes, weird sexual tension routine between bassist and vocalist. Kageyama wonders if Hinata wonders the same thing about Kuroo and Suga as they do. If he does, Kageyama feels for it—liking someone you think might like someone else sucks really bad.

Suga bows, his soft boy sweaty hair in pieces around his face. Kageyama thinks about the girl with the bob haircut and is glad she doesn’t go here.

“Can I just point out that he is so cool,” Hinata says. “I _wish_ I looked like him.” He shakes his head.

There it is—the blatant kind of compliment that comes from someone totally uninterested romantically. Even Tsukishima nods, and Kageyama’s not sure if he’s interested in anything. He’d almost rather Hinata had said it about Kuroo, but why would he if thinking Kuroo is attractive is a secret he actually feels.

_And Shou, no way,_ he thinks, looking at Hinata’s profile. _You’ve got it going on._

“We can head back now,” he says. “I’ll introduce you to Akaashi while the guys empty the stage.”

Hinata brightens. “Oh, cool. Tsukki, just like five minutes?” He looks up at his friend.

“My ride is supposed to be here in three,” Tsukishima says. “And since when do you get to call me Tsukki, too?”

Hinata claps his hands together. “Please?”

Tsukishima eyes him like he expected this already. He caves. “Fine. _Five_.”

“Cool,” Kageyama says. “I feel like you and Akaashi would get along. Follow me.”

They push out of the crowd and skirt the edge of left stage again. Mattsun is facing them while he wraps cords into his case.

“Hey, man,” Kageyama says. “This is Hinata and Tsukishima—friends of mine.”

Mattsun smiles at them. “Nice to meet you guys. Thanks for coming to the show.”

“It was great. And, you too,” Hinata says.

Mattsun does his gentle laugh and gives Kageyama a glance. “Appreciate it.”

“I’m taking them backstage,” Kageyama says, tilting his head, avoiding that knowing look behind Mattsun’s glasses. He’s always been too smart. He salutes them off.

Akaashi is still on his phone when they find him. He goes through long periods of phone only or no phone at all. He’s probably doing work tonight. Kageyama would bet as much as they’re making on this gig that he didn’t put it down once during the set.

“Akaashi,” he calls.

He spares a glance, a lift of the eyebrows, and a moment to pocket his phone. “What’s up?”

“Friends of mine. This is Hinata—he’s a neurobio major.”

Hinata raises a hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Akaashi says. With the way he’s looking at Hinata, Kageyama sees the obvious connection happening in his mind, thinking back to Savannah and the conversation they had on Thursday in Bokuto’s room. Like Mattsun, he has enough tact to know not to mention it.

“And Tsukishima,” Kageyama says, “who speaks three Germanic languages.”

Akaashi’s brows go up again. “Really? Hit me with something.”

Bokuto jumps down from the stage _woo_ ing. He runs over to Akaashi, breathing heavily, and shoves his mouth against his cheek for affection. “What’s up, babe.” He looks at Hinata, tactless. “Hey—”

Akaashi’s mouth turns into a line, and Kageyama is pretty sure he pinches Bokuto somewhere behind him because he squirms. What are friends for. Hinata says a hi back, none the wiser.

“Bokuto,” Kageyama introduces.

“ _Ich könnte wetten, das hier versteht ihr nicht, ihr Deppen_ _,_ ” Tsukishima says.

Bokuto blinks. “ _Ein bisschen._ ”

Kageyama, Akaashi, and Hinata all glance at each other. Akaashi just shrugs, a tired look on his face: _I don’t even know anymore_.

“I’ve learned a bit,” Bokuto says proudly.

“German?” Kageyama asks.

Tsukishima nods. He looks actually impressed, even a little taken aback. “I said, ‘I bet you don’t understand this, you fools,’ and he said, ‘A little.’”

Kageyama laughs and fist bumps Bokuto. “Nice one, dude.” He’d offer one to Tsukishima, but he’d also bet twice what they’re making on this gig that he would be left hanging. “Bokuto reads and YouTubes obscure stuff,” he explains. “Currently, coding?”

Bokuto shrugs. “Native American religions. Also supervolcanoes.”

“Exactly.”

Bokuto shoves his hand out to shake with Hinata and Tsukishima and get their names. He’s grinning a lot even for him—a good show or meeting new people, or maybe something from a purple Ziploc bag. His sticks are in his other hand; his knuckles turn white while he clenches around them in little pulses.

_What was in your pocket tonight, Bo?_

“Your kit’s gonna get left here, man. I’m not about to pick it all up for you.”

They turn to look at Kuroo up on the back of the stage. He has Darla in one hand and the hi-hat in the other, coming down the steps.

Kageyama looks sideways at Hinata. He has his arms hugging himself, feet together, laser gaze. It’s so obvious that he wants to get with, or at least done by the hot bass player—player with a double meaning. Sometimes Kageyama wishes he actually knew how to play an instrument, but even if he did, he’d still be no Kuroo Tetsurou.

He accidentally does another once-over and catches his first proper sight of the _back_ of Hinata’s white shorts. It’s not like he’s never seen a butt before, but he’d be lying if he said this wasn’t one of the best.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Bokuto pulls his sweatband down around his neck and makes a running jump up onto the stage.

“You guys gonna help?” Kuroo calls.

Akaashi waves his hand at Kageyama. “I’ll get it, Tobio. Thanks for coming out, Tsukishima and Hinata.” He smiles halfway. “Good luck.” He follows his boyfriend to the stage, using the steps like a normal person.

“On what,” Tsukishima asks.

“Don’t ask me,” Kageyama says quickly. He doesn’t look at Hinata because he feels like Hinata got it. Kuroo is about to be near them, and all Kageyama wants to do is let him walk by since that’s exactly what he would do. But he can’t. He said he’d introduce everyone, and Hinata’s sparkly eyes are hard to let down. “Hey, man,” he says, putting a hand up to call their bassist over.

Kuroo comes to them. The instruments in either hand make his biceps stand out. “Who’s this?” He puts down the hi-hat and looks at Hinata first.

“My friends. This is Tsukishima and this is Hinata.” He hesitates, but really—as if he even needs to say it. “Uh—guys, this is Kuroo, our bassist.”

“Hi,” Hinata says. He puts a hand out and Kuroo obliges. “I’m a big fan. I come to most shows. I was in Savannah last weekend, too. Kageyama said we could come back, so.” His voice is different, a little higher, and he touches his hair when they stop the handshake. He’s grinning wider than he does with Kageyama.

Double ouch.

Kuroo does the worst thing he could: he smiles back. That halfway one where his eyes are lidded and apathetic with his bangs messy in them, bedroomy, and where people realize up close that he actually has perfect skin and amber irises.

“Thanks, Hinata,” he says. “You have a favorite?”

Hinata looks at Tsukishima like a kid at his mom at the doctor, as if Tsukishima has any answers or cares. “Uh—you mean a favorite song?” he asks.

Jesus. Favorite member? Would he really say that?

Kuroo hums.

Hinata laughs, touches his hair again. “Yeah. I like ‘Penrose’ for your part, actually. And ‘Manor’ but I wanted to sound intellectual.”

Kuroo tilts his head. “Thanks again. A lot of people find the bass difficult to appreciate.”

“No, I think you do a great job with it.”

What is happening?

Tsukishima is this close to rolling his eyes.

Kuroo smiles, almost laughing a little. Hinata really is obvious, but Kageyama would deck Kuroo for bathing in it if he wasn’t scared of him. “Cool,” Kuroo says. “Keep coming to the shows. We definitely appreciate having you. You, too.” He nods at Tsukishima who’s looking at his phone.

“Do you know when the next one will be?” Hinata asks.

“Hey, Hinata, my ride’s here.” Tsukishima pats Hinata’s shoulder. For some reason, with the look he gives Kageyama, he feels like Tsukishima would pat his shoulder too if he cared just a little bit more. “See you, Kageyama.”

Addressing him by name? Maybe they just did an instant unspoken bonding over their dislike of this pairing before them. “See you, Tsukishima. Thanks again.”

Tsukishima nods and goes.

“ _Bye_ , Tsukki,” Hinata says. “I’ll see you when I get home.” He turns back to Kuroo for an answer.

“That’s an Akaashi question,” Kuroo says.

“Next Saturday is our best bet,” Kageyama adds.

Hinata looks at him, looks back at Kuroo. “Okay, cool. Well, I’ll probably be there.”

“You’re not busy for finals?” Kuroo tilts his jaw out.

Kageyama has to check his face. As if Kuroo would ever care enough to ask anyone that if he wasn’t basking in the attention.

_You’re straight, you dick. I think._

Hinata laughs. “Oh, I definitely am. But I don’t like to miss a show. I really love the music, you know?”

Kuroo nods. “I don’t miss that after graduating.”

Hinata blinks big eyes up at him. “You graduated already? I don’t know why I thought you were a fourth year.”

“Early grad. Fine arts.”

“I’m trying, too. Neurobio.”

“Nice.”

Kageyama has always thought of himself as a true neutral. He always has been, but right now, jealousy is pulling him a little bit into the evil side. Even with dual enrollment, he’s on track to graduate right on time; it’s dumb that it seems slow and unimpressive. So Kuroo went a little faster at school than him…so what?

He looks up to the stage wondering where in the hell Suga is, but Akaashi pushes back the curtain and he can see Suga helping Mattsun put Baby into the case, wrapped cords over his elbow, gesturing at Bokuto when he comes this close to knocking a cymbal over onto the floor before just barely saving it. Suga is the leader of the year, wingman of never.

“You guys need any more help?” Kageyama asks Kuroo to try and break whatever is happening here.

Kuroo shrugs and reaches into his front pocket, pulling out his cigarette pack. Kageyama tries desperately to gauge Hinata’s reaction in his periphery, but he can’t tell. “Bokuto’s on it again tonight,” Kuroo says. “Triple his Addy or something, so he’ll probably—”

“I said I’ve got it, Tobio.” Akaashi comes down the steps with Bokuto’s snare and kick drum pedal. He nods at Kageyama and manages to pick up the hi-hat from Kuroo’s side as he passes by. “Be with your friend.”

The true wingman of the year. “Thanks. Cool?” Kageyama asks Kuroo.

Kuroo shrugs again. “For tonight. I’m gonna put her away.” He holds up his bass. “See you around, Hinata. Thanks again.”

Hinata looks up from where he was staring at Kuroo’s ribbon. “Yeah, for sure. Great meeting you.”

Kuroo puts a cigarette into his lips as he walks away.

There’s a pause between then.

Kageyama taps the toe of his shoe against the floor. “So…do you like The Chainsmokers?” he asks.

Hinata shoots him a look. “Funny.”

Kageyama regrets it until Hinata smiles and nudges his ribs with his fist.

_Now_ Suga comes down from the stage with multiple cables rolled and slung over his shoulder, and his mic in his hand. He catches their eye, goes right to Hinata and shakes his hand. “Hey, you must be Hinata. Bokuto let me know you’re here with Tobio tonight.”

Bokuto is truly, utterly tactless.

“That’s me,” Hinata says. “Awesome show, as usual.”

Suga flicks his hair back, a light sweat making his skin shine and his smile truly killer. “Thank you. Listen, I’ve gotta pack up, but we’re happy to have you at future shows.”

Hinata nods. “I’ll be there.”

Suga looks at Kageyama. “You’re off the hook for tonight, but only until we leave. Tops twenty minutes or you’re walking home alone.”

“Loud and clear,” Kageyama says. “Just making sure he gets a ride.”

“Sounds good. Twenty.” He walks away pointing at Kageyama, then turns and calls out to Kuroo off in the dark.

Hinata sighs next to him.

Kageyama turns. “What’s up?”

“He’s just like, a model.” He’s looking at Suga and Kuroo talking to each other.

Kageyama doesn’t know what to say. If he opens his mouth, he’ll probably just stick his foot in it.

Hinata takes his phone out and taps around. “It says fourteen minutes for the closest ride. Is that okay?”

Kageyama shrugs and nods, putting his hands in his pockets. “A whole six-minute grace period for Suga to not kick my ass.”

Hinata giggles. “He looks like he would, too.”

For Hinata, Kageyama smiles. “Definitely.”

It’s cooler outside, with sodium lights on overhead and the muffled version of the music from The Room behind them. Kageyama unsticks his ribbon from his wrist.

“Is there a reason you guys chose the places for those?” Hinata asks.

Kageyama looks at him sitting on a bike rack, swinging his legs. It’s cute, and the position accentuates his butt. He averts his gaze, heat coming to his cheeks. “On us, you mean?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Kageyama shrugs. “Not really. We just decided it couldn’t be in the same place on any two of us. Suga finds the belt thing easy, which is why I chose my wrist—I just slip it on and off. Mattsun picked last and was running out of options. Kuroo…I guess he’s drawing attention.” Right, so, he probably shouldn’t have said it that way, but it’s too late now.

“It works,” Hinata says, looking out at the road.

Kageyama clears his throat. “And uh, Bokuto and Akaashi match but mirrored from each other. Kind of metaphoric, kind of sappy.”

“You said before that Akaashi manages?” Hinata asks. Kageyama hums a yes. “What does he do?”

“He gets our gigs and stuff. Scheduling.” He rubs his neck, really trying not to steal another glance. “As much as we have of that anyway. He talks to the guy here.” He hooks a thumb at the building. “He’s majoring in entertainment management.”

Hinata raises his eyebrows. “Oh, that’s pretty cool. So are the two of them, like, dating?”

Kageyama nods. “Totally. It’s been, what, a year and a half now? Only because Akaashi took months to fess up to the fact that Bo’s sloppy advances actually worked.”

It was five months of a strange courtship between the two of them. Bokuto was always coming on to Akaashi, doing things for him and doling out endless compliments, but it kept not working, or Akaashi wouldn’t admit that it was. Either way, ultimately, Akaashi fell for it. They’ve been happy ever since.

Hinata looks right at him. He’s the kind of person who locks in on you when you’re talking. “That’s cute,” he says.

Kageyama chuckles. “It is, honestly. But yeah—the ribbons don’t mean anything, but it looks like it might, which is cool.”

“Kind of metaphoric?” A breeze makes Hinata’s hair wiggle.

Kageyama stares at him, hoping the dark is enough to hide whatever’s happening on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Hinata smiles. “I like the advertising,” he says. “I love seeing a ribbon in some random place in between classes on Fridays. There was a big bow tied like fifteen feet up a lamppost outside the health sciences building yesterday.”

Kageyama puts a hand to his forehead. “Yeah, that’s Bo. How the hell did he get one there?”

Hinata brings a hand up from the bike rack when he giggles. “The window was like five feet away so…maybe? He’s tall.”

Kageyama shakes his head. “He’s wild. I love that guy.” He shifts his hands in his pockets and turns his face up to the sky, looking at the moon. The breeze tugs at his bangs and makes them tickle his forehead. “He wears his ribbon every day, so I guess it means something for him.”

“That’s kind of sweet,” Hinata says, then laughs. “And they always clean the ones around campus up in a day or two. I think groundskeeping hates you guys.”

Kageyama snorts. “But Bo’s a ninja.”

Hinata snorts back in a cuter, scrunchier way. “Stealth level a hundred. I imagine him Spidermanning up a wall in all black and jumping from building to building with red ribbon trailing out behind him.”

“Don’t let the secret out, okay?” Kageyama stage whispers.

Hinata laughs again. He looks down at his feet while he kicks them. “Thanks for waiting with me, by the way. Tsukki really does study a lot, but I do too, since I actually need it. We do group study with Tadashi. They help me focus.” He waves a hand. “Anyway, I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Kageyama says. Hinata’s voice when he speaks in earnest is nice, too. He waves back. “I study a lot too, so I get it.”

Hinata looks at him funny. “You study?” He changes it fast, bringing both hands up and wiggling them back and forth. “Sorry, that came out wrong. Again.”

Kageyama smiles. “It’s cool. Back in high school I didn’t pay attention to studying, but I’m trying to do better now. Mostly I just find a seat somewhere while I’m on campus and read my notes. Three As, minuses. Physics is just hard so I’m pulling a B right now, but I’m hoping the final will go well. Thoughts?”

Hinata just looks at him for a second. “Well…you lied about being fluent in physics, but.” He smiles, and Kageyama’s heart does something. “Would you want to study together some time?”

Oh, shit. His heart _really_ does something. Is this like, a thing? Just a chance to hang out with Hinata, outside of band involvement? Whether it means anything or not, it’s at least proof that Hinata doesn’t hate being around him.

He plays it casual. “Yeah, sure. Usually I study by myself since, when I’m with the guys, I’m usually doing band stuff or avoiding work at all. It’ll be cool to have an actual study partner.”

Hinata smiles again, and the light from the streetlamp catches the tip of his nose. “You can join our study group, then. We hate the library, so we usually meet up in a living space.”

Oh. Right—the group. Makes sense. Well, he’ll take what he can get. He wonders how much Tsukishima will actually want to do that.

Now for a little courage.

“Sounds good. Um.” _Come on, Tobio. Say it._ “Can I get your number then?” He holds up his phone, a soul offering.

Hinata’s brows go up. “Oh, yeah. I’ll type it in.”

_Score_. He unlocks his phone and hands it over.

Hinata hums while he clicks. “So, do you prefer to be called Kageyama or Tobio?”

_You can call me anything you want_. “Whichever you want.”

Hinata smiles at him. “All right. Well, this’ll be a nice eclectic mix of architecture, neurobiology, Germanic, and botany.” He hands the phone back, eyes shiny under the streetlight.

Kageyama takes it. Next to his name, Hinata put a tangerine emoji. He swallows. “Nice. We’ll design a greenhouse of German plants and…think about them.”

Hinata snorts. “I said neurobio not philosophy.” He grins one more time, and Kageyama won’t even blink.


	6. Used to Things

Bokuto is closing tonight, which means he works until three a.m. Kageyama couldn’t think of a worse schedule, or a worse job. Bokuto worked in a breakfast café back in Asheville, then a pizza joint for two months when they first moved here before it closed down, and both of those were fine, but Jack’s freaks Kageyama out. Ever since he learned what goes on behind the scenes, it makes him wonder what kind of people work there, what happens with the food before it leaves the kitchen, if anyone washes their hands after doing a bump over the bathroom sink. He kind of wishes Bokuto worked somewhere else, but he’s making nearly fourteen an hour and says it’s hard to come by with just a high school education, that he likes some of his coworkers, and that he can’t afford to lose the place. Still, going there gets him anxious and brings his mood down. He’s worse tonight than usual.

“You’re sort of shaky,” Kageyama tells him.

Bokuto shoves his hands in his pockets. “It’s cold.”

Southeast spring: eighties during the day, sixty at sundown. “You’re sleeveless,” he says.

Bokuto looks at his arms like he just noticed. “Oh. Whoops.”

Kageyama thumbs his phone in his pocket. He’s been trying to work up the nerve to open up a conversation with that tangerine emoji since they left the house after putting everything away from the show. Would it be weird to ask if Hinata made it home safe? Should he just cut to the chase and ask about meeting to study? Save it for tomorrow?

“So, Hinata seems cool,” Bokuto says. “Even though he didn’t say much.” His shoulders tense up for a second then relax again.

_Oh, he said plenty, just not to you_. “Maybe he was being shy.”

“Kaashi’s kind of intimidating.”

“Tsukishima, too.”

Bokuto laughs. “He’s one tall dude. I feel like he and Kaashi would get along. Did Hinata come to see you or Kuroo?”

Kageyama pulls his phone out of his pocket and just looks at it. “I want to say me, but.”

“That sucks.”

“Tell me about it.” He clicks his phone screen on to a photo from a couple of months ago of the guys on stage at The Room. The pink shirt Suga debuted that night got good marks. “Do you think it’d be weird if I texted him tonight?”

Bokuto raises his eyebrows at him. “You got his number?”

Kageyama holds his phone up. “Score, right?”

“Yeah. Unless he’s so uninterested in you that he’s okay with being friends like that.”

Kageyama gives him a cool nod. “Thanks. I needed knocking down a peg.”

Bokuto snorts. “Sorry. Just text him then.”

“Okay.”

**_Kageyama:_ ** _hey. did tsukishima go galaxy brain with the extra half hour?_

He hits send, then puts his hand on his forehead.

**_Kageyama:_ ** _this is kageyama by the way_

“Step one,” Bokuto says. “Check.”

“Mm.” Kageyama clicks his screen off and holds his phone in his hand. They make a turn onto the next road. “Were you okay today?” he asks.

Bokuto makes a face at him. “Huh?”

“Kuroo said something about maybe you took an extra Addy or two.”

“Oh.” Bokuto scratches his ribbon, then waves his hand. “Nah, I was fine. Just like, hyper, I guess.”

Kageyama wonders if Akaashi has mentioned anything yet. If he’s seen the purple Ziploc. He could start prying with Bokuto now, but he’d rather them be at the house. “All right,” he says. “You played really awesome, anyway.”

Bokuto smiles. “Yeah.” He tenses his shoulders again and looks forward. “It does that.”

“Does it.” His phone chimes. He looks at Bokuto while they walk. “About the bag… We’ll give it a couple days, okay?”

Bokuto stares at him. He faces forward again. “Yeah. Okay.”

**_Hinata [tangerine]:_ ** _Hey lol. A million cases down. My driver smelled like lasagna but kind of in a good way?_

He snorts.

**_Kageyama:_ ** _that’s kinda gross lmao_

**_Hinata [tangerine]:_ ** _Get this—my dormmates had actually made lasagna when I got back_

**_Hinata [tangerine]:_ ** _It was delicious_

**_Hinata [tangerine]:_ ** _I’m fired up to do homework …_

“That’s a lot of texts back,” Bokuto says, peering at the screen.

Kageyama smiles internally. “Do you think I’m onto something?”

“I mean, you may not be a hot fine arts graduate gone rogue, but you’re a nice guy. So that’s points.”

“Thanks, man.”

**_Kageyama_ ** _: that’s weird and lucky and now i’m hungry_

**_Kageyama_ ** _: btw when are we meeting up?_

He shuts off his screen again, waiting for Bokuto to say that he’s really jumping right in or something like that. But Bokuto is just looking forward, clenching his hands in his pockets.

Kageyama tucks his phone away. They’re almost to the restaurant on the south edge of campus.

“You remember that other time, right?” Bokuto says. “Like a year ago. When I tried.”

Nine months ago, actually. He tried getting off the Adderall, but he ended up anxious and miserable for days on end. He got more a week later.

“Yeah,” Kageyama says.

Bokuto nods. “I sucked to be around. And I was bad to Kaashi—my attitude was the worst. I know I’m annoying now, but I’m good to him, I think.”

It’s the one thing besides a great drummer that Bokuto never fails to be. “You are.”

“Yeah. I want to be.” Bokuto sniffs. “So. I’ve been taking it for a long time.”

On the ground in front of them, a red ribbon blows by entangled in a clump of Spanish moss like a weird bloody tumbleweed. Kageyama tilts his chin it. “They missed one.” He thinks about what Hinata said about the groundskeepers hating them.

Bokuto hums. “That reminds me.”

Kageyama watches as he slides his ribbon off his arm. Other than to shower or maybe to sleep, Kageyama has never seen him do it—and he thought he had to untie it. Should his arms be skinny enough to do that? “You’re taking it off?” he asks.

Bokuto just shrugs. “The guys at work keep messing with me about it.” He laughs, but the way it sounds makes Kageyama uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them just cut it off my arm one night.” He takes it off his wrist and tucks it into his pocket. “It’s safer there.”

All Kageyama can think to say is, “Oh.”

Bokuto points out at a through street. “Dream car, huh? Daishou’s.”

It’s a Porsche Cayman, sleek night blue, glittering under a streetlight. Out here amongst the university crowd, it seems out of place. Kuroo wasn’t kidding. It looks like a two girlfriends kind of car.

“Nice,” Kageyama says.

Down two more blocks and to the left, the back end of Jack’s is visible with shift change coming in and out of the door. A few people mingle outside—a girl and two guys, standing close together and talking.

“All right,” Kageyama says. “I’ll see you later.” Bokuto walking home alone at three a.m. isn’t ideal, especially since he’s one of those witching hour people, but he’s tall and a fast runner.

“Thanks, dude,” Bokuto says. “I don’t know why I wanted you to come with me this time.”

He’s looking at the people standing outside. One of the guys and the girl walk away and get in a car, leaving the other there in black pants, a white button-up tucked in, shiny black dress shoes, what looks to be brown hair, parted off center for his bangs to hang long at the side of his face. He must be a waiter; Bokuto can wear whatever he wants as a cook and tie his hair up in a little purple sprout for all the boss cares.

“But yeah. Thanks,” Bokuto says. He touches the place on his arm where his ribbon would be.

“No problem,” Kageyama says.

Bokuto doesn’t start walking. He looks over at Kageyama. “We get used to things, don’t we?”

Kageyama doesn’t know how to answer.

Bokuto walks away from him, down the slope of the road to the back door and greets the guy standing there. Kageyama watches Bokuto grin, and the guy puts his hand on the back of Bokuto’s neck, thumb and forefinger spread around the nape. Even though he’s shorter than Bokuto, maybe just under Kageyama’s height, it’s aggressive enough to make Bokuto slouch under his hand. He claps Bokuto’s shoulder twice and walks into the restaurant. Bokuto follows.

He looks like a two girlfriends kind of guy.

The thought comes to Kageyama’s mind that Tendou might know him. Mental note.

His phone chimes in his pocket. He takes it out and turns away from Jack’s restaurant to go home.

**_Hinata [tangerine]_ ** _: Tuesday, four? Here’s the address_

Kageyama puts it into Maps and recognizes the area of downtown he only wishes he could get an apartment in. Is Hinata rich? Doesn’t he dorm with Tsukishima?

**_Kageyama_ ** _: you live over there ?_

Hinata sends three texts back:

**_Hinata [tangerine]_ ** _: I w i s h. I’m in the east coed hall with Tsukki_

**_Hinata [tangerine]_ ** _: Just wait until you see This Place_

**_Hinata [tangerine]_ ** _: [leaf]_


	7. [forest]

_TUESDAY_

* * *

The area reminds him of “Garden Terrace Overgrown with Kudzu” because it’s kind of a rich sounding song, and he was listening to their poor-quality demo back when he first explored over here. The address brings him to apartments with brick facades and trimmed bushes outside, an open field in the middle with a little pond and a fountain. It was a half hour walk from the north side of campus after leaving classes. That plus his nerves are making his hands sweaty. He wriggles his fingers in his pockets.

_Chill out. He’s not into you._

There are nice cars parked around when he gets to the right building. A spotless white Range Rover has four decals of potted plants on the back windshield. He’d bet a hundred bucks.

Door 212 on the balcony has one of those brass loops for knocking, but he just uses his fist like a peasant.

Yamaguchi grins at him when he opens the door. “Hey, Kageyama, you made it!”

He expects a rush of cool air—Yamaguchi can obviously afford it—but it doesn’t happen. “Hey. Warm welcome.”

Yamaguchi laughs and the freckles on his cheeks stand out. “Eighty out, seventy-eight in. It’s great for the plants and the electric bill.”

He tries to remember if he put on deodorant today. “Sweet car.”

“Hand-me-down from my mom. You saw the stickers? I have the same succulents inside. Everyone’s here if you wanna come in.” He waves Kageyama in and goes across the foyer in shorts and a green T-shirt and green socks. Even his hair seems greenish in his lighting, a stray sprout coming up from the crown. “You’ll probably want to lose the hoodie,” he calls. “Though you did walk here in it. Are you okay?”

Kageyama steps into the warmth of the apartment and closes the door behind him. “It’s all I’m wearing.” He toes off his sneakers next to a pair of slip-on Vans with happy faces on them (Yamaguchi for sure), knockoff navy Converse (Tsukishima? Chucks?), and Hinata’s dirty white Reeboks with the orange laces.

“You can borrow a shirt if you want,” Yamaguchi offers. “And can I get you anything?” He’s in the kitchen to the left pouring a glass of water from a Brita. Everything is stainless steel and tannish granite countertops, herbs growing in the windowsill above the sink and more potted plants on the bar counter. Leaf emoji indeed.

“Thanks, I’m good,” he says, then mutters, “And that would just hurt my pride in front of Tsukishima.”

There’s a familiar giggle from the living room around the wall, and a call from Tsukishima of, “Great point.”

“Oi, Kageyama,” Hinata says. “We saved a spot for you.”

_Is it next to you? Tell me it’s next to you and not Tsukishima._

_And…so you’ve chosen my last name, then…_

“Hey, guys,” he says back. He turns into the living room and is hit with it—the more money than him, the humidity no better than outside, and more leaf emojis than he could ever count. “Whoa. Look at this place.”

It’s _definitely_ the upper-class part of town. Yamaguchi already has the square footage and the nice kitchen, and there’s a stairwell just beyond the wall of it, exposed into the living space. Hardwood flooring on the first floor with a massive plush rug laid out, a big window across the room letting light in, a leather corner couch and a flat screen on the wall, and the door to what’s probably a really nice bathroom. The second floor is loft-style, a sort of balcony overhang where Yamaguchi’s bed, dresser, and desk are.

And amongst all of it, plants _everywhere_.

Yamaguchi rushes in his socks to stand next to him and starts pointing. “I have succulents there, there, and there. Bamboo in that pot, and those are snake plants and spider plants. That’s jade in the windowsill. The one next to the couch is called dracaena, and you saw my stuff in the kitchen—herbs and stuff like coriander and basil. Up there—” He points to the underside of the second level at a lattice with hanging plants hooked into it. Kageyama’s surprised it’s not woven with vines, too. “That’s pothos and arrowhead and a few ferns and Ripple Peperomia, and Burro’s Tail which is also a succulent. I want a Chenille really bad but they get kind of big. And that’s my humidifier.” He points to a machine humming quietly in the corner. “Oh, and my orchids!” He runs over to a shelf next to the stairs where two orchid plants bloom shades of purple inside boxes of light coming in through the window. He displays them with his hands, grinning so widely his eyes close. “Cattelya. They just bloomed last week.”

“This is really cool,” Kageyama says. And it is—like, really awesome. But there’s also Hinata and Tsukishima on the floor, notebooks open, and Hinata is on his stomach with his pen in his mouth, waving his feet in the air, and wearing flat front shorts with little blue pinstripes. His butt makes them a neat curve leading out to tan, toned hamstrings. He did say he rides a bike, didn’t he.

“And now the leaf emoji makes even more sense,” Hinata says, looking up at Kageyama.

“Forest,” Kageyama agrees. “Where’s the red plant?” he asks as Yamaguchi goes to his spot on the floor with his water.

“I’m keeping my slippers upstairs with me for now,” he says. He motions to the rug for Kageyama to join.

They’ve left him a space to make a full square, and he’s either relieved he’s not right next to Tsukishima or intimidated that he’s right in front of him. Probably both. He drops his backpack and sits, but regrets his choice when he’s at eye level with Tsukishima while Yamaguchi and Hinata are lying down. He’s just looking at Tsukishima sitting in front of him, eyes sharp behind his lenses, and the lack of expression on his face is unbearable. Kageyama wants to be on Hinata’s level, but he doesn’t want to give in.

He gives in.

“That’s cool. Thanks for inviting me,” he says, lowering himself onto his elbows and letting his legs stretch out behind him. The rug is plush enough to sleep on. Hinata smiles at him with his pen between his teeth.

_Shut up_.

“Just pointing out that I didn’t know until I got here,” Tsukishima says.

“And that’s why,” Hinata retorts. Tsukishima shoots him a look but Hinata doesn’t care.

How long have the three of them been here so far? Have they been talking about him? He looks at Hinata and wonders what he’s thinking. It’s nice to know he’s most likely not thinking about Kuroo right now, and if he is, Kageyama’s done for anyway.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the show, by the way,” Yamaguchi says.

_Thanks for the apology, but don’t mention it. Seriously_.

“He really wanted to come,” Hinata tells him, “but—”

“Orchid emergency.” Yamaguchi smiles, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. “If the temperature is off in here it makes it way harder to care for them, and my heating system kind of started going crazy. But aren’t they beautiful? I’m not that great at flowers, as you can see, but I’ve always wanted to take care of some. They’re a challenge for any self-respecting botanist.”

“Of all of us, Tadashi is the most into his craft. And fit for it,” Hinata says, and Yamaguchi does his eye-closing grin again. “Though Tsukki’s a close second.”

Tsukki gives him another look at the nickname.

Kageyama smiles. “Cool. So, how do you guys study?”

“We were just about to start going over our notes from yesterday and today,” Hinata tells him. He looks right into Kageyama’s eyes in this really bright way, and just _looks_ like he’s smiling when he talks even if he’s not pulling a Yamaguchi the whole time. “We do this thing where we teach each other what we learned recently. It’s great for encoding.”

“And fun to learn about other subjects,” Yamaguchi adds.

Kageyama nods. “Sure. Can we like, do a formal intro first? I’m out of your loop.” _Please tell me some things you like, Hinata Shouyou_. _Besides cute shorts._

“Are you a stalker?” Tsukishima asks.

Kageyama blinks. “I’m a PI.”

Tsukishima narrows his eyes. “Good answer.”

“Sure,” Hinata laughs out. “Uh, I’m a neurobiology major, which is kind of like psychology with more biological science. It’s really hard—” his nose scrunches again, and Kageyama looks at the little wrinkles, “and I have to take cell and molecular science courses, but I’ll do more cognitive stuff once I get higher up.” He pauses, looks at Kageyama. “And, um. I like comedy movies and Italian food and,” he smiles, “alternative music. Oh, and I’m a first year if you couldn’t tell already.”

Kageyama does that slight smile. “Nice. Still a cool major.”

“Thanks, I think so too.” He starts tapping his pen on his lower lip.

Kageyama swallows. “Yeah. Are you in-state?”

Hinata nods. “Charleston area.”

“Cool. Parents move here?”

“Grandparents.”

“Same.” He just keeps staring.

“Germanic studies, like I said before,” Tsukishima says to break it up. Kageyama works to pull his eyes away from Hinata to look at him. “Focusing on languages,” Tsukishima says, “but also taking courses on political and economic development, religion, literature, health. I’m habitually studying German and Danish, and started Icelandic this term,” he motions to his notebook, “and I think I want to pick up Norwegian and some dialects. Trying to study abroad next summer. Um.” He sighs and looks sideways, bored. “Experimental films, Japanese food, and…” He glances at Yamaguchi, then away again. “UK rock.”

“And are you a freshman?” Kageyama asks to only be a little annoying.

Tsukishima gives him the expected look. “Technically.”

“And he’s a bore,” Yamaguchi says. “And he’s only into UK rock because I showed him the Arctic Monkeys. And I’m the one who gave him the nickname.” He smiles at Tsukishima, who crosses his arms as if that would hide the blush creeping onto his cheeks. “I’m a botany major,” Yamaguchi says, “first year, taking orgo two and stuff on cell biology and ecology. There’s a class about flora symbiosis I’m trying to take next term, so I’m really excited for that if I get in. I love plants and Studio Ghibli, and I play classical around the house usually.” He shrugs and Kageyama says it with him: “Good for the plants.” Yamaguchi laughs.

Kageyama nods. “First year in architecture for me, which I guess I’m liking so far. Bo and I are from Asheville up in North Carolina. We moved here and I dual enrolled at the community college nearby before coming to K. Bishop, so.”

“Me too,” Tsukishima says.

“I wish I had,” Hinata says, poking out his lower lip. “I could be even further ahead.”

Kageyama shrugs. “You’re still ahead of me if you’re trying to graduate early. I’m just trying to have time for the band, enjoy school and life.”

Hinata gives him a cute smile. “Hm. Then staying ahead of you is the new goal.”

_Oh? Do you like a chase?_ His mouth opens.

Hinata giggles at him. “Summer classes? I’ll be lining up three once registration opens.”

A little joking, plus unprompted questions directly for him? Does that mean Hinata feels comfortable around him? Kageyama forces himself to nod. “Yeah. Something with architecture probably.”

Hinata snorts and taps Kageyama’s arm with his pen.

_You won’t make this easy, will you, Shou._

“Do you like, design buildings for your classes?” Yamaguchi asks him.

Kageyama redirects his attention and tilts his head. “We try. I mapped out an amphitheatre for an assignment once, but it probably wouldn’t have held up.”

“If you’re good, I’ll contract you later,” Yamaguchi says. “My dream is to build a botanical garden.”

“Impressive.” Talking to Yamaguchi is easy, too. He gets the feeling that the two of them are going to get along fine. Now he just needs to work on Tsukishima. “I might do a landscape class next year.”

“Brush up on geometry,” Yamaguchi says. “I want a huge geodesic dome. Or lots of little ones—I haven’t decided yet.”

“You’re such a rich kid,” Tsukishima mutters.

“Or both,” Kageyama suggests. “A big one and little ones scattered around. Different climates, different plants.”

Yamaguchi snaps his fingers. “I like the way you think.”

“Music, food, movies?” Hinata asks.

Kageyama is happy to get to look at him again. “Oh. I like alternative, and I listen to electronic when I feel like running. All food, most films.”

“I really do wish I hadn’t missed your show,” Yamaguchi says. “From what I’ve seen, your music is really cool.”

Kageyama shrugs a shoulder. “It’s in the na—”

“Aren’t they good?” Hinata says. “The bassist is really skilled.”

Kageyama closes his mouth and swallows. So maybe Hinata _is_ thinking about Kuroo.

“The bassist,” Yamaguchi echoes, trying to remember. Tsukishima tilts his head at Hinata and Yamaguchi gets it. “Ohhh. Oh, him.”

“He has a huge crush on that guy,” Tsukishima says.

Kageyama looks into his eyes and thinks, _You know I know, Tsukishima._ Tsukishima says back, _Had to put it out there. Sorry._ He might even mean it. Maybe they did make an unspoken bond.

Hinata punches Tsukishima’s leg. “ _Thanks_.”

What is Kageyama supposed to say now? Yeah, I know? Got it, but you don’t want to mess with that? Yeah, but I have a huge crush on _you_?

He clears his throat. “Kuroo…he’s a good guy.”

Yamaguchi smiles but looks sideways. Tsukishima pushes his glasses up again.

“Why do you say it like that?” Hinata says.

Did he say it in a certain way? “He’s a good guy, I mean it,” he says. “But he’s—you know.”

“He’s his look,” Tsukishima says.

Exactly. Even Yamaguchi nods, which means he’s either been to a show before or Hinata has shown him something from one of the social media accounts. Photos or videos that Kageyama took.

He shrugs and nods. “He’s the most, uh, _band_ out of everyone. Mattsun and Suga are model students. Akaashi works really hard and is a great manager, but he’s still just like you guys. Bokuto’s just crazy.” He takes a breath and shakes his head. “But Kuroo is an alt musician straight through.” He pauses and then says, “ _Straight_ through.”

Right…should he have gone that far?

His punishment for resorting to that: Hinata won’t look at him. He’s looking down, vacantly at his notebook on the floor.

_Does that feel good, Tobio, you dumbass?_

“No, I got it,” Hinata says. “I mean, I sort of guessed that, or maybe that he was doing something with…” He waves his hand, changes his attitude to nonchalance. “No, I totally get it.” He nods at Kageyama. “Totally.”

_Way to make things weird. Real slick._

He almost stammers. “I mean, nothing’s a guarantee with that. But I—”

And here he is justifying it, justifying Kuroo’s messed up behavior. Pretending to make Kuroo look a little better so he doesn’t look so much of an asshole himself for saying something. Trying to get _that_ look out of Hinata’s eyes so he doesn’t feel so bad. They don’t call it a crush for nothing.

He sighs. “You know, I honestly don’t know. He’s just Kuroo.”

Hinata smiles, but it’s really dull. “I get it.”

A silence falls over them, the hum of the humidifier in the background.

“So, should we, uh.” Yamaguchi picks up the corner of his notebook.

Kageyama goes for his backpack to get his, trying to break up the awkwardness with a larger motion. “Yeah, sure. Also, it’s really cool having met you guys. My bad for being creepy and staring last week.”

Hinata’s smile brightens a little more again. No grudges. A good person. “It _was_ kind of creepy, but it’s okay. I guess I’d pay attention if I heard someone talking about Something Cool, too.”

_No. Not easy at all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, editing this after I finished writing it like a year ago...my style has changed so much since then lol. I hope you guys are liking 2019 writing style


	8. Upgrade

_THURSDAY_

* * *

They were having a plant sale in the quad, but he didn’t want to get one and have it die on him because he’s an architecture major, so he got a banana instead. As he walks up to the house finishing it, Bokuto is standing on the roof in his usual short shorts. Kageyama might be shocked if this weren’t at least the fifth time.

“Hey,” he calls up.

Bokuto blinks down at him. From here, it looks like he’s either frowning or really concentrating. “Hey, Tobe.”

He was expecting the arms raised and _You’re here!_ but it doesn’t look like Bokuto’s feeling it. Low energy. “What’s up?”

Bokuto looks around at the rooftop. “I guess me, dude.”

_Yeah? You don’t look like it. You look like the other night before work._ “Nice.” _And your thighs are seriously pale._

Bokuto sighs. “Thoroughly.”

“Wanna come inside?” He tosses his banana peel over by the fence in the grass so it’ll biodegrade.

The black shingles must be searing hot, but Bokuto sits down. “I guess me, dude,” he says again, lower, slanted.

Today’s the day to find out. Bokuto is nuts, but not this kind of nuts. “All right. Watch out for the UV.”

He makes his way up the wooden steps and into the house.

“If that’s not Tobio, because I know he won’t, please shoot me,” Mattsun calls from the kitchen.

Kageyama snorts. Kuroo’s door is open as he walks in. He’s on his floor leaning back against his bed, pen in mouth and Darla in his lap, staff paper in front of him.

Kageyama nods. “Hey.”

He nods back.

Kageyama makes it into the kitchen. “That bad, huh?”

Mattsun turns around from the counter, nihilism behind his lenses. “I thought it’d finally be the day.” Kageyama laughs. Just by looking at him, you wouldn’t guess Mattsun has all the internal issues he does. Fortunately, they come from mainly external factors. “Working on a paper for micro and a presentation for accounts, big surprise,” Mattsun says. “Trying not to freak myself out over it. Just remembered I forgot lunch. And breakfast.”

“Oh, dude.” Kageyama snaps his fingers and slings his backpack off his shoulder. “I don’t have food for you but I do have something else.” He pulls out the bottle of Pom he bought yesterday after school.

Mattsun adjusts his glasses. “Are you serious?”

Kageyama chuckles. “Yeah. Still owed you for the sushi. And I know it’s been like, rough. With the end of the semester and all.” He holds the juice out.

“You’re telling me.” Mattsun takes the bottle in both hands, reads the label he’s read a hundred times before but rarely allows himself to buy. One of those three-tiered ones—one hundred percent, twenty-four-ounce, eight-dollar pomegranate juice. “Thanks, man. I never get this.”

“I got you.” They bro shake. Mattsun twists the cap with a crack and has a minuscule sip. “Don’t drink it all at once,” Kageyama says.

“This is liquid rubies. I have to savor it.” He twists the cap back on and puts the bottle in the fridge. “Seriously, thank you.”

“I heard a bottle open and I am _parched_.” Bokuto is coming in through the open window, bare feet on the kitchen counter. He climbs down to the floor and starts rubbing one eye. His nails are painted green.

“I’ll get you some water, but if you touch my juice.” Mattsun gets a glass from a cupboard and runs the tap. “You’re like, thirsty lately.”

“Dude.” Bokuto tenses his shoulders under his giant graphic tee of Jimmy Eat World, the sleeves floppy and his ribbon trailing out from under the left one. Kageyama knows he has on his short shorts, but for a second it looks like he’s not wearing pants at all. “Kaashi’s gotta see a professor today, so he’ll be late.” He pouts.

“All right,” Kageyama says, staring down at Bokuto’s dirty feet. His toes keep curling under on the tile, his ankles rolling out a bit. One hand is in a fist, squeezing.

Mattsun hands the glass over and Bokuto chugs the entire thing. He puts a hand over his stomach and frowns. “Thanks.”

“Stay hydrated. You’re baking up there.” Mattsun puts the glass with the rest of the dishes in the sink. “Back to hell.” He salutes himself off back down the hall.

Kageyama wants to tell him he still forgot to eat, but it’d probably be no use. He’ll throw food in his room later. “See you.” He tilts his head at Bokuto. “You good?”

Bokuto pulls his lips out into a line. “Yeah.”

“Your room?”

“Yeah. I’ve been reading about cryonics.” He leads the way. The backs of his legs are bright red from the shingles.

“Like, freezing people?” In the room, Kageyama starts to push Bokuto’s door to a crack behind them out of habit.

“Yeah. Like freezing people.” Bokuto jumps onto his bed. “Cause in like two weeks the landlord is doing his six-month.”

Kageyama lifts a brow. Bokuto has never had a perfectly smooth train of thought. “Is that even allowed?” He avoids the beads Bokuto didn’t clean up and joins on the bed, dropping his backpack in the same place as he always does.

Bokuto shrugs again, messing with a green nail. His hands are shaking. “I don’t know.” There’s a quiet clicking as Bokuto flicks one nail against the corner of another. “What day is it?” he asks.

“Thursday.”

“No, like, what day.” Bokuto looks around his room.

Kageyama finds his phone. “The twenty-third.”

Bokuto nods. He sniffs and brings a trembling finger up to rub under his nose.

Kageyama watches him. That better not be it. If Bokuto has even looked at a line of coke at work…

Casual. Be cool. “Was the roof fun?” he asks.

A shrug of Bokuto’s floppy sleeves. “Like usual.”

“Just been hanging today, or?”

Bokuto hums. “Yeah.” He leans over to his bedside table and shoves a book to the side to find his purple bag. It takes him a few tries to pick up the corner, but he grabs it and pulls it over.

It’s surprising that he’s just doing it, right there in the open for Kageyama to see. He figures it’s partially because he’s already seen it before, partially because Bokuto is fixing and doesn’t care enough to try to hide it. He watches Bokuto open the bag, pull out a pill, zip it closed, and toss it away again.

Well, it’s as good a time as any.

“It’s been a few days,” Kageyama says.

Bokuto looks up at him. “Yeah.”

Kageyama nods at the pill. “What is it, dude.”

Bokuto looks down again, turning the pill in his fingertips. It’s white, circular, unmarked, and dusty—the look of a pill handmade somewhere. He tosses it back and dry swallows with an unnerving practiced ease. He does a cool shrug, sharp shoulders under his shirt, and says, “Molly.”

Okay. Not what Kageyama expected. Is it better or worse?

“You’re taking ecstasy?”

Bokuto shrugs again. “Yeah.” He hooks a thumb at the bag and finally meets Kageyama’s eyes. “You want one?”

_I don’t even know what to think, Bo. Do I_ want _one?_ “No, I’m good.”

Bokuto laughs once, but there’s no smile on it. “Yeah. I know you are.”

There’s a long pause while Bokuto swallows a bunch of times. The air in the room is strange all of a sudden. What is Kageyama supposed to do with this?

“Where do you get that from anyway?” he asks. Not that he doesn’t already know the answer. He still needs to check with Tendou about it.

Bokuto starts twisting the end of his shirt around his finger. He swallows again and his shoulders tense up for a second. It’s weird and he looks wrong, like he’s not quite Bokuto right now. “Daishou gets it from somewhere in Atlanta.”

“That guy you work with? From the other night?”

Bokuto nods.

Kageyama watches the shirt twist, untwist, twist. “Bo, I’m kind of.” Nothing else comes out. He literally can’t think of what to say at all.

“It makes me good, Tobe.” Bokuto looks into his eyes with the shirt spiraled around his finger, stuck there. “Like, you said I played well last show. It does that. It makes me perfect. When I’m rolling, I’m invincible.” His fingertip is dark with collected blood, red around the green nail. “And the Addy doesn’t do it like that, you know? Not anymore. I can focus, but on this, I feel…” He shrugs. “Stuff.”

“How long have you been taking it?” Kageyama asks.

Bokuto untwists and the blood rushes back out. He leans back against the wall, pulls his knees up and holds his legs. “No, dude, it’s—it’s not like that. Not long, you know.”

_Convincing_. He nods. “Okay. How much?”

The corners of Bokuto’s mouth turn down and he shrugs, looking sideways. “Not much. One is like forty milligrams or something. So.”

Or something. _How may in a day, Bo? How many would you have taken if I wasn’t sitting right in front of you?_ MDMA—Molly, ecstasy, whatever they want to call it. It’s an upgrade. It’s called tolerance. Kageyama kind of wishes it had just been triple his Addy.

“I got, like—it wasn’t enough anymore, you know?” Bokuto says. “The orange ones weren’t doing so much, and you know how I am. I just got used to it.”

_We get used to things, don’t we?_

Did he ask for it, or was it offered to him?

Kageyama just nods. “How long does it, like, take?”

Bokuto shrugs again. “I haven’t eaten in a while. And they’re powdery and taste disgusting, so.” He sniffs. “Should be pretty fast.”

Another nod. “Yeah. Is it like, okay?”

Bokuto waves a hand, makes this face like nothing here is a big deal. “Yeah, yeah. Daishou doesn’t mess around.” He pushes out a laugh.

_Okay—think, Tobio._ He would kill Bokuto if he had started on coke at work, but he was cool with him taking the Adderall. This is a grey area between the two now, and he’s unsure whether to be chill about it or if something is really up besides Bokuto in a few minutes. He wants Mattsun’s opinion, Suga’s, even Kuroo. Anybody. He’s carrying it now.

He scratches his head. “I’m gonna be honest with you.” He looks at the bag, looks at his best friend since they were kids. “The idea of it kind of freaks me out.”

Bokuto smiles at him. That signature Bokuto: dimples and pink lips and white teeth and shiny eyes, golden like bergamot marmalade, like his mom’s. But a parody of it, trying too hard to be exact, and it’s too much. “It’s cool,” he says. “I promise.”

_Then why does it feel like you’re lying?_

“Does Akaashi know?” Kageyama asks.

Bokuto looks sideways again. “Uh.” He tilts his head and his shoulders tense. “It’s kind of.”

Yeah. He figured. “Okay. Well.” He can’t think of anything else to say.

For a while, they just sit there in silence, Kuroo unplugged and the air conditioner as background music, Bokuto moving his tongue around in his mouth. And then his eyes close and he puts his hand on his stomach and says that you feel it there first, and Kageyama didn’t really need to know. Bokuto’s shoulders go down, and he pulls his legs closer to himself. He smiles even more—huge, euphoric. Invincible.

He opens his eyes and he’s Bokuto again.

“I _wish_ Kaashi were here right now, though,” he says. “I just wanna, like—” He puts his hands out and squeezes them into quick fists. “ _Mm._ You know?” His head falls back against the wall. “He’s so beautiful, Tobe. Sometimes he’s the _only_ thing.” He looks into Kageyama’s eyes seriously, like this is life or death, still grinning. “I know he doesn’t hug you or other people, so you wouldn’t know about his hugs, but he gives the best ones ever. He’s like.” He blinks at the air and loses the rest of the sentence. “Man, I want to make out with him.” His legs stretch out and he sighs. “How did I ever get him?”

“He, uh. Cares about you,” Kageyama says. _We all do, Bo. You don’t need this…do you?_

Bokuto clutches at his chest, a _thunk_ against his ribcage, and squeezes his eyes shut. “God, I know. He’s everything, seriously.” He opens his eyes and his pupils are dilated, reflective. He motions toward the Ziploc again. “And on _this_ stuff? Jesus, it’s mind blowing. He’s incredible.”

Kageyama is drawing a blank.

Bokuto heaves out another sigh and leans forward into a comfortable slouch. Jimmy Eat World hangs off of him, distorted. “Anyway, thanks for being cool. I’m really happy you are.”

He puts his hand out, and when Kageyama shakes it, Bokuto pushes forward and hugs him. They don’t hug often and it’s awkward, but he hugs back anyway. _It is the love drug, isn’t it._

Bokuto smiles while he leans back. “Are you sure you don’t want one?”

Kageyama makes his mouth do a smile. “I’m good.”

His phone chimes in his pocket. He reaches into his joggers and pulls it out while Bokuto flops onto his stomach in front of him, shaking the bed.

**_Hinata [tangerine]_ ** _: How much do you think Tadashi will flip?_

**_Hinata [tangerine]_ ** _: [sent an image]_

It’s his hand holding up a little potted flowering cactus with a tag that says _Blossfeldia._ Cute plant, cuter hand.

**_Kageyama_ ** _: on a scale of one to ten? 11_

“Is that Hinata?” Bokuto asks. He props on his elbows in front of Kageyama’s knees, grin held in his hands.

Kageyama snorts. “Yeah. He got his friend a cactus. He’s a botany major.”

“You guys do it yet?”

Kageyama flushes red up his neck to his ears. “Dude.” _Honestly…I wish._ “You know how it is,” he says.

“Yeah, but I saw you checking him out. You’re shy, but you’re pretty obvious.” His eyebrows go up. “That ass of his is pretty obvious.”

Kageyama envisions it in his mind, those striped shorts from Tuesday, the white ones from Saturday. A god given gift. “You noticed too?”

“I mean, Kaashi’s is my favorite, but his is something.”

“Tell me about it. Bike riders.” He gets another message.

**_Hinata [tangerine]_ ** _: Right? I’m giving it to him later today. Apparently Tsukki got him one too—they were having a plant sale in the quad. He’s gonna love them_

**_Hinata [tangerine]_ ** _: By the way thanks again for studying with us. It was cool learning about decorative motif haha_

Kageyama is about to type back when Bokuto says, “So, Kuroo though?”

What a vibe killer. Kageyama also wants to shove Bokuto and tell him to keep his voice down, you can hear everything in this house. “Yeah. He basically admitted his crush on Tuesday when we studied together.”

Bokuto’s eyebrows go up again. “You studied together? The two of you?”

Another text. “Hold on.”

**_Hinata [tangerine]_ ** _: Want to meet up again tomorrow? Two ish? Just us, TnT are busy. Also sorry about it getting weird at the beginning there… Felt kind of like a schoolboy with a Stupid Crush TM_

Kageyama should take pointers—Hinata is one brave guy. It’s hard to just say it like that.

Also, that’s exactly what he is. Kageyama too.

Also—score.

**_Kageyama_ ** _: totally. and nbd, kuroo has that effect on a lot of people and you probably don’t wanna be with someone like h_

_Delete that, asshole._

**_Kageyama_ ** _: totally. and nbd, feelings are like that. i go stupid over crushes too lol_

Better. Sent.

“No, with Tsukishima and Yamaguchi—botany friend. And a million plants,” he tells Bokuto.

Bokuto hums. “Got it, got it. Did he straight up say that he’s into Kuroo?”

Kageyama shrugs. “No, but Tsukishima did. I tried to make it clear that Kuroo is straight up.”

Bokuto makes a face and throws a hand out. “Yeah but, the Suga thing? I don’t even know.”

“Yeah, I know. I…lied. I think. Or.” He’s confusing himself. Everything is kind of confusing right now.

Bokuto messes with his hair, rolls onto his back and hugs himself. “Who knows. Keep trying with him, though. It took me five months to land Kaashi.” He holds up a green five for emphasis and then lets it fall back to his stomach where it taps out chemical energy in drumbeats. “I hope that professor doesn’t take long today. I’m craving him.”

Some of it is symptoms, Kageyama knows that, but it’s still Bokuto being extremely into Akaashi even a year and a half later. It must be nice to know that the person you’re craving will actually show up because they actually like you back.

But he can’t complain right now. He’s seeing Hinata again tomorrow, just the two of them.

One more message comes through.

**_Hinata [tangerine]_ ** _: Do you?_

Down the hall, there’s a pop of feedback as Kuroo plugs into his amp and turns up the volume. He plays an unfamiliar riff—quick, distorted and sliced at the end, sounding like it’ll give Bokuto an easy quarter-time fast pace to settle into and will have Suga working the stage. The last note echoes out and the whole house is silent.

Bokuto sits up and blinks huge eyes at Kageyama.

From Mattsun’s room: “Holy shit, man.”

“Hell yeah. New song, guys.”


	9. Goldfish, Newports, Accounting, and a Sophomore

_FRIDAY_

* * *

He might be a little more nervous if Hinata was the kind of person to just ask him if he has a crush—instead of the kind of person who eats pizza flavored Goldfish straight from the bag that he brought in his backpack. And offers him some.

“My parents,” Hinata says. He holds the bag out for Kageyama to shove his hand in while they walk. “And a scholarship. That covers everything for me—rent, tuition, fees. Food. I’m fortunate.”

Kageyama manages to get at least ten Goldfish in his cheek before he says, “Nice.”

To avoid weaving through buildings and students, they decided to skirt the edge of campus and walk along the main road. They’re headed to the art building, then to the stacks, since Hinata needs a resource for something.

“What I wouldn’t do for a place like Tadashi’s,” Hinata says.

Kageyama closes his eyes. “I _wish_ I could live in a place as nice as that. His rent is probably more than we make in a whole show.”

“What do you make?”

“At The Room, like four-fifty.”

Hinata hides his laugh by heavily inspecting the Goldfish bag. “You’re not wrong.”

“Jesus.” Kageyama reaches for more.

Hinata holds the bag out for him. “He’s from the coast. His family owns like, something with boats.”

“Nice. The humidity in that place, though.”

“You could’ve borrowed a shirt, you know. You wear a lot of hoodies.” Hinata laughs, looking up at Kageyama. The afternoon sun is out and it shines off his cheekbones and in his eyes.

Kageyama blinks at him, remembering what Bokuto said about being blinded when he looked at Hinata. “Oh. Yeah.” He looks down at today’s hoodie: navy and white tie-dye. Why does he own two whole T-shirts? “Well.” He squints into the sunlight. “Those plants better be extremely hydrated.”

Hinata laughs again, and Kageyama pretends it doesn’t affect him that much. “They definitely are. And the new cacti are doing well. He named Tsukki’s Charles and mine Carla.”

Kageyama comes this close to saying that sounds a lot like Darla, and he knows a certain bass guitar by that name, but he doesn’t even have to speak of the devil aloud. This is what he gets for suggesting they take the main road. At least the guy isn’t sleeveless today.

Serendipitously, Kuroo comes out from the corner store the next block up, carrying a bag with what Kageyama is about a hundred percent sure is cigarettes. His shirt is short sleeved, rolled, but his jeans have a big rip on one thigh so it doesn’t really matter anyway. The house is behind them, which means Kuroo is walking right in their direction.

“Do cacti like humidity?” Kageyama says.

“Is that Kuroo?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Hinata is looking at Kuroo instead of at him, and that sucks. “Was he on campus?”

“Doubt it. The house is back that way, so.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder, not that Hinata sees it.

He’s busy shoving the Goldfish back in his backpack. “You live in a house?”

_Rest in peace, Tobio._

“Hey,” Kuroo calls when he’s ten steps away.

“What’s up,” Kageyama says back.

Kuroo nods at them. “Hinata. Good seeing you again.”

“Hi,” Hinata says, waving a little. “What are you up to?”

“Restock.” He holds up the bag then reaches into his pocket, pulls out his previous box of Newports—the only brand he uses—slips out the last one and flattens the box in his hand, sticking it in the bag. “You smoke?” He holds it out between two fingers.

Like Kuroo would ever offer a precious cigarette to anyone he wasn’t toying with.

_As if_ , Kageyama thinks at him. _Shou’s a good person._

Hinata blinks at it. “Oh, uh, no. Not really.” He smiles. “Thanks though.”

_Ha._

“All right.” Kuroo puts it in his lips and lights it. Kageyama wants to tell him he shouldn’t smoke around Hinata then, but saying that to Kuroo would probably get him murdered. Or at least a really healthy glare from under those stupid bangs. “You guys?” Kuroo asks, like he’s making actual conversation.

“Oh, we’re just headed to, um, the art building?” Hinata only takes his eyes off of Kuroo for the split second he needs to ask the question in Kageyama’s direction.

“Need to see Tendou,” Kageyama says, trying not to be too flat about it. Kuroo is his friend, but he’s such a cockblock.

“Gotcha.” A warm breeze pushes Kuroo’s bangs in his eyes more. It’s already that too cool to care, fresh out of bed thing, and with the cigarette and rolled sleeves he looks like James Dean, Japanese eBoy Version, which is just great. “If you’re headed back to the house after, you’re welcome over, Hinata.”

_Dick. Using Hinata’s name like that. Pretending you care about formalities. Pretending you care about Hinata._ I _care about_ Shouyou _._ I’m _the one with the freaking tangerine emoji._

_Whoa, dude. You’re like, really jealous._

He looks at Kuroo’s shins. So open. So kickable.

Hinata brightens. “Oh, thanks. I think we’re gonna study, but thank you.”

_Suck it._

Kuroo shrugs. “Cool. You coming tomorrow night?”

“To the show?” Hinata says.

_Yeah, Shou, not to the house. Even though you want to. Can we go now?_

Kuroo nods, exhales, and the wind carries the smoke away.

“Of course,” Hinata says. “Tests to study for and papers to write, but tomorrow, business as usual.” He laughs.

Kuroo smiles a bit. “I definitely don’t miss it.” He looks at Kageyama and says, “Six, practice,” like he might not know that already, like they don’t have a practice basically every Friday.

Kageyama nods. “Yeah. Got it.”

“See you around,” Kuroo says again to Hinata, and Hinata tries to say _Bye_ back but it comes out pretty quiet. Kuroo nods at him and goes around Kageyama down the sidewalk.

“Later,” Kageyama calls just so he can get the last word in. He turns back to Hinata. “That was sudden.”

Hinata clears his throat. “Yeah.” They pause, and he looks up at Kageyama. “Don’t give me that look.”

Is he? “Am I?”

“It’s in your eyes,” Hinata says. He squints, points with two fingers back and forth between their faces. He’s joking, but also not. “I’m not delusional. I know.”

Kageyama shrugs in his tie-dye. “I didn’t say anything.” He puts his hands in his pocket and they start walking again.

Hinata snorts. “No need. I’m a big boy, all right?”

Half of his mind goes for _No, you’re just the right size,_ and the other half for the totally perverted _Yes, yes you are_. It takes all his willpower to not glance at the black shorts Hinata’s wearing today with the red tag on one back pocket. What he wouldn’t give to put his hand—

“I know,” he says.

Hinata eyes him. For a second, Kageyama is sure he’s got it all figured out, that he really is going to just ask who he has a crush on if he has one. But Hinata just hums, swings his backpack in front of him again and takes the Goldfish back out. He pours himself a handful and then holds it out for Kageyama with those same big eyes.

As Kageyama puts a hand in, his phone goes off in his pocket. It’s not his text tone so it’s not one of the guys. He frowns and takes it out, dumping crackers into his mouth.

It’s Instagram—a message from a username he doesn’t know, sent to his personal account. When he clicks into it, it’s from guy with a relaxed smile and close-cropped pink-dyed hair.

He stops walking.

**_maquitos_ ** _: hey dude. so I’m thinking Mattsun waved at me after the savannah show? like me specifically?_

“No way,” Kageyama says. _Sorry, Akaashi, but I’m about to be the wingman of the_ _century._

“What is it?” Hinata asks.

Kageyama looks at him, looks at his phone, looks at a bus stop up ahead. “Let’s sit down for a sec.”

Hinata looks concerned as he puts another Goldfish in his mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing at all.” He grins. “I’m about to get Mattsun a date.”

Hinata’s eyes widen. “Whoa, you have a scary grin. Is that a girl—or, is he straight?”

Kageyama laughs and says, “At this point, Issei will take anyone.”

“Then message them back.” Hinata heads for the bench and waves Kageyama along while another message comes through.

**_maquitos_ ** _: neg me if I’m wrong lmao but look, if he’s interested so am I. let me know. you guys are killer btw. and I messaged ur priv cause I figured you’d have notifs off for the band acc [peace sign]_

Okay, then he has enough brains to use Kageyama’s handle listed in their bio, and the sense not to use Akaashi’s. Plus, he has the same chilled-out look and attitude as Mattsun.

“Get this,” Kageyama says. “I remember this guy from the Savannah show and I _know_ Mattsun waved to him.”

Hinata’s eyebrows go up. “Seriously? That’s like, cosmic.” He points at nothing and says, “I was there too. Great show.”

Kageyama smiles at him. “I know you were.”

Hinata blinks. “Right, I mentioned it before.”

_Sure. Let’s go with that._

Hinata plops down on the bench munching his crackers in this stupidly cute way, and pats the wood next to him. Kageyama sits, taking one more handful. “Preliminary questions,” he says. “What to ask?”

“Where he’s from, uh, school maybe.” Hinata shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s more up to Mattsun to decide, isn’t it?”

Good point. If this guy is weird, it’ll show after a while anyway. Location it is; if he’s from Wyoming or something, it’s not going to fly and Kageyama won’t even bother.

**_nuffboy_ ** _: hey man thanks for coming to the show. i gotta ask- where are you from?_

He waits for a second. Hinata leans in to look at the phone screen and crunches quietly in his ear. Half of Kageyama wants to tell Hinata to scoot closer and half of him is scared he’s going to pop a narb. He watches the typing bubble and thinks of dying animals in the back of his mind.

**_maquitos_ ** _: I turned in an assignment two hours late for that show lmao. I live in Greenwood, I go to Lander. I’m in accounting_

**_maquitos_ ** _: Makki btw_

“That’s only a couple hours away, right?” Hinata says.

Not bad at all. Kageyama would travel an hour or two easily for someone he likes a lot if he had a car. It’s his luck that he doesn’t need to. “Sounds pretty good, huh?” He looks up and Hinata nods at him. “You know Mattsun’s in finance, right?”

Hinata’s mouth opens. It says enough.

**_nuffboy_ ** _: not bad tbh. and that’s a coincidence- mattsun does finance_

**_maquitos_ ** _: does he? is he a third year too or?_

**_nuffboy_ ** _: yup. listen he’s a busy dude so no guarantees but.. ngl i saw him wave to you and he’s not the kinda guy to usually do that so_

Next to him, Hinata wiggles in excitement. Cute.

**_maquitos_ ** _: sick, so he’s into guys_

**_nuffboy_ ** _: yeah lol_

He pauses, taking a breath. There’s one more thing he has to ask for him to actually give this a go. Hinata looks up at him, but he keeps his eyes on the screen.

**_nuffboy_ ** _: one more thing dude_

**_nuffboy_ ** _: mattsuns not gonna be looking for a one time thing_

“Ohhh,” Hinata says. He laughs softly and nudges Kageyama’s arm. “So you’re a protective softie?”

Kageyama definitely isn’t blushing. “He’s a good friend. And he’s…” The last thing Mattsun needs in his life right now is to get to liking someone and have them just walk out. Call it vetting the applicant. “Tired.”

**_maquitos_ ** _: lol dude, you think I’m gonna come all the way there from hours away to hit it and quit it? THAT GUY?_

“He has a point,” Hinata says. “If he wasn’t serious, this would be a strangely large amount of effort.”

Kageyama hums. “True.”

**_maquitos_ ** _: look, jokes aside, I don’t know him yet--I can’t make any promises. but I’m no slag. he seems like a guy I’d want to be around for more than a bit_

“And he’s rational,” Hinata offers. “Mattsun seems like he’d be into that.”

**_nuffboy_ ** _: ok i trust you. i’ll pass this on to him and if he wants he’ll prlbably message you from his priv @ matsudon_

**_maquitos_ ** _: look at that, great minds think alike_

**_maquitos_ ** _: and thanks I really appreciate it_

**_nuffboy_ ** _: no problem dude_

He sighs and rests his phone on his leg.

“Why is your handle nuffboy?” Hinata asks.

Kageyama shrugs. “It wasn’t taken.”

Hinata just looks at him. “Wow.”

“What’s yours?” He lifts his phone. “I’ll follow you.”

“Hinacolada.” He pops two more Goldfish in his mouth.

Kageyama looks up at the sky, putting his fingers under his chin in thought. “Food names…”

“You know how I call Tadashi and Tsukki T and T?” Hinata says.

“Yeah?”

Hinata nods to the phone. “M and M.”

It hits him in the heart. “Dude.”

“Exactly,” Hinata says. He stands, grinning, and rolls closed the Goldfish again. “Pass it on and let’s get to the art building so we can get to the stacks so we can get out of there.”

Absolutely. He wants to tell Bokuto and Akaashi about this, but that’s up to Mattsun. He takes screenshots of the conversation and goes into his texts.

**_Kageyama_ ** _: Pink Hair from savannah? look no further_

“Wait, so do you have to go to every practice?” Hinata asks. He kicks a rock up the sidewalk toward the art building. “I just remembered you’re not, like—” He stops and the rock goes off into the grass.

“Actually in the band?” Kageyama says.

Hinata makes that face at him. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

Kageyama chuckles. “We just like to have everyone in the loop on everything. I’d probably be over there hanging out anyway. Plus, we have a new song, so it’ll be good for me to see how everyone goes with it for when I’m photographing.”

Hinata raises his eyebrows. “Really? What’s it called?”

Kageyama shrugs. “Don’t know yet. Kuroo just finished it yesterday.”

_Make him look cooler, why don’t you._

The eyebrows raise a little more. “Ohh, I see. Does he write the songs usually?”

They get to the front door and he holds it open, trying to keep his sigh on the inside. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Hinata just nods while he goes through.

It’s freezing even in the hallway. Hinata looks offended and crosses his arms, and Kageyama really would offer his hoodie if he had a shirt on underneath, but he’s an idiot. “The cold is good for the art supplies or something,” he says.

Hinata pushes out his lips. “You sound like Tadashi. Anti-Tadashi.” He rubs his arms. “I guess that’s just Tsukki. Why are we here again?”

“I have to talk to one of my friends. He’s an artist. You know our red ribbon?” He hooks a thumb at the usual door. “He’s our illegal dealer.”

Hinata quirks an eyebrow back up. “Dealer?”

Kageyama grins again, and Hinata laughs at it. “Come inside with me?”

“Sure. I like art.” Hinata pushes into the room first.

There’s a new painting: abstract per style, straighter lines, messy symmetry and a red background fitting for what looks to be refreshed hair dye. Kageyama already knows exactly what this painting is—communism.

“Hey,” Kageyama calls.

Tendou spins around on his stool with his legs crossed, holding a paint palette out to one side and a fan brush to the other. He’s wearing tiny frameless half-lens glasses, peering over them at Hinata. His style and the backdrop of his painting make him look like a supervillain. “Who’s your friend?”

Kageyama looks at Hinata, feet together and hands holding his arms. “Oh, this is Hinata Shouyou. Shou, this is Tendou.”

Did he just—?

Hinata doesn’t seem to notice. His brow furrows, and he looks at the painting and then at Tendou. “Wait—Tendou like Tendou Satori? I _knew_ I recognized it.”

Tendou smiles, setting down his brush. “ _Bonjour_ , Hinata Shouyou. I guess you’ve seen my stuff?” He looks apologetically at Hinata’s arms. “Sorry, it’s cold, I know.”

Hinata waves it off. “No, I’m fine. Yeah—I’ve seen some paintings hanging in the concert hall foyer before. I really like your style.”

Well, this is enjoyable. Who knew his crush would get along with his supplier?

“Good fan,” Tendou says, and Kageyama feels it.

“Kageyama says you’re his dealer?” Hinata asks.

Tendou nods. “We only do psychedelics here, though. If you want something else, I can direct you to a guy.”

Hinata blushes on the apples of his cheeks, tucking his shoulders up. “Oh—um—I actually—”

Tendou laughs. “I’m kidding, _portokáli_. I can tell you’re a first-class citizen.”

“Indeed,” Kageyama says.

Hinata tilts his head. “So…you sell…”

Tendou chuckles, glancing at Kageyama. “It’s a hell of a lot easier than selling art.”

Hinata brings a hand to his chest.

“Do you need another roll already?” Tendou asks Kageyama.

He shakes his head back. “Not today. I’m here for some intel.”

Tendou removes his tiny glasses, spinning them in his fingertips. “All right, I’m interested.”

Hinata looks up at Kageyama again, blinking curious bright eyes.

“Do you happen to know a guy named Daishou?” Kageyama asks. “History major, I’m guessing sophomore, junior?”

“Works in a restaurant?” Tendou offers.

Kageyama nods. “That’s the one.”

Tendou makes a flat, unimpressed sort of sound. “Sophomore. I had a lab with him last semester, gen-ed.” It turns into distaste, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t hang around that guy if I could avoid it.”

“Did he do anything, like, bad?” Kageyama asks. “Like—I don’t know.”

Tendou slips his glasses back onto his nose. “Me either, but I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s into stuff I’d never touch. Has the money for it.” He shrugs. “Just kind of a douche all around.” He picks up his paintbrush again. “I think he’s trying to get into the pill game.”

Yeah, Kageyama got the douche vibe, with the Porsche and the hair. And now the pills are confirmed. “Understood. Thanks.”

“ _No problema_.” He smiles at them. “Nice to meet you, Hinata. Thanks again for the support.”

Hinata smiles back. “You’re really good. It’s cool to see one in the process.”

“Be back in a week or two,” Kageyama calls as he leads Hinata out, and Tendou waves the paintbrush at them.

When they’re back onto the sidewalk, Hinata asks, “Is everything okay with this Daishou guy?” He squints in the sun again.

_I don’t know. For Bo’s sake, I hope so_. “Yeah, no big deal. Just some guy Bo works with.”

Hinata nods. “I see. Have you and Bokuto been friends for a while? You said he’s not a student, right?”

“Right.” He didn’t say why. Not his to tell. “We’ve been friends since we were kids.”

“That’s cool. Tsukki and I met in high school, and we met Tadashi here last semester. Well, Tsukki met him, and he’s literally never introduced anyone to me before, so Tadashi was a shoo-in to our friend group.” He laughs, then says, a little softer, “You look out for Bokuto?”

The rock Hinata kicked is still sitting there in the grass. Kageyama puts his hands in his pocket. “Yeah. I do.”

Hinata hums. “You are a protective softie.”

_You’re smarter than you let on, aren’t you, Shou._

They turn toward the library.

After a while, Hinata says, “So, Shou, is it?”

Right. Whoops. Kageyama rubs the back of his neck. “It sort of slipped out back there.”

Hinata just laughs and says, “It’s fine. I like it.”

_You…you do?_ “I mean, I think it works.” He shrugs as nonchalantly as possible, hoping.

Hinata shrugs back. “I guess I’ll have to switch to Tobio then.”

In his hoodie pocket, Kageyama curls his hand into a victorious fist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Portokáli is "orange" in Greek.


	10. Invitation

_MONDAY_

* * *

Either Kageyama is seeing things, or Mattsun actually has an air about him today. Usually, after Monday classes, he’s wearing a slouch at his backpack straps, hands in his pockets, flat-faced behind his glasses thinking about everything he has to get done by the end of the night, the week, and his early twenties. Kageyama has his fair share of anxious moments, but if there’s anyone who deserves that Xanax scrip, it’s Mattsun, and he barely even uses it. He’s a solid, great guy.

Who _definitely_ has an air about him today.

“You’re freaking me out,” Kageyama says.

Mattsun glances at him while they wait at a streetlight to head toward the house. “Why’s that?”

“Your, like, posture.”

Mattsun snorts. “I didn’t bring my micro textbook today.”

That thing is a cinder block that would weigh anyone down. “Fair. Want to explain the glint in your eyes then?”

Mattsun does one of his gentle smiles at the crossing sign. It turns green and he leads Kageyama onto the road. “Want to just ask me outright?”

Oh, he _totally_ messaged Makki. Kageyama let it be after sending that text to Mattsun on Friday, and Mattsun never mentioned it over the weekend. So Kageyama wasn’t wrong to take that as a good sign. “Tell me about him, dude.”

Mattsun hums, stepping up onto the sidewalk again. “He’s cool, really witty. Quite hot.”

Mattsun’s type by a mile: ultra chill, easy to get along with, quick but dry jokes, _let’s bail on that party_ kind of guy. Probably has an ugly stray cat he took in and gave a really useless name.

He does have a cat—two, actually. Kageyama didn’t stalk his account or anything, but he stalked his account.

“Nice,” Kageyama says.

“He’s an exchange student.”

Kageyama frowns at the sidewalk in front of them. “Is he leaving?”

“Not before he finishes his degree, maybe not even after that. He’s still thinking about it. Says he’s leaning towards staying in America but that he wants to travel, too.”

Kageyama shrugs. “Your jobs are kind of everywhere things, aren’t they?”

Mattsun shrugs back. “It’s a year away, so.”

Kageyama nods. “But he’s in Greenwood now. It’s manageable. You two could bus halfway easily.”

A pause before: “He has a car.”

_So you already know._ “Where’s he from?”

“Kyoto.”

Kageyama takes a moment to load the question. “Does he have a nice voice?”

Mattsun laughs and looks sideways away from him. “Very.”

Bullseye. “So you’ve called.”

“Twice.”

“ _Dude_. Get some.” Mattsun shakes his head at him. “So you like him?”

Mattsun sighs, pushes his hair back and his glasses up. “Yeah. I’ve kind of thought about him since the gig, you know?”

_Cosmic was right, Shou_. “Nice.”

“Maybe we could do a double date some time.”

Kageyama feels the statement poking annoyingly at his shoulder, telling him to pull himself together and man up. “Did Bo tell you?”

Mattsun laughs once. “Nah. I knew when you brought him backstage that one time, and this weekend you hung with him at the show again, so it sealed the deal. Hinata, right?”

“Yeah.” He sniffs. “Am I that transparent?”

“Like glass. He’s your type anyway.”

“What’s that?”

“You know. Good kids.”

Kageyama looks off at the air for a while. “So, I guess you don’t know he’s dehydrated for our bassist, then.”

“No, I could see that, too.”

Kageyama huffs. “I just want to know if he actually _likes_ him, or just—” He waves a hand.

“Just be faster,” Mattsun says. “Kuroo’s never been one to put in effort first.”

“Well.” He kicks a rock and it makes him think even more of Hinata. “Makki clearly has more initiative than me. And confidence.”

“Plenty,” Mattsun says. He sighs. “I asked him when he’s free to meet and he said this Thursday or Friday.”

Kageyama looks at his feet on the sidewalk. “When we probably have practice.” Knowing Kuroo, maybe both days. With the new song, they even have one today when Mondays are almost always free.

Mattsun says, “You’re telling me.”

“I’ll fight him,” Kageyama vows.

“You’re too nervous to.”

“I’ll get Akaashi to fight him.”

Mattsun snorts. “Let’s just see what he wants and go from there.”

Well, that’s good enough for now. It’s a proud feeling, this moment. This is really good for Mattsun. “Either way, the posture is killing it.”

Mattsun shakes his head and straightens his shoulders.

When they walk in the front door, Kuroo is already moving things from his room to the living room, cheap wire music stands and Darla. He nods at them, headed back toward his room when they pass.

From down the hall, there’s a voice singing. It’s quiet, slow, part of a ballad that Kuroo wrote pieces of but never finished. In Kageyama’s head, Suga is accompanied by imaginary baby grand piano.

_Watch you fade in and out of existence_

_What can I conclude?_

_It’s nothing I can’t explain_

_So I suppose I can’t complain_

_Of something missing_

_Something I can’t get from you_

It’s the voice Kageyama imagines Suga using when he’s home alone—open, from his chest with long wavelength vibrato. A pure tonal melody that’s smooth and sad with his prince-like eyes. Whole crowds would swoon if he used it onstage.

Mattsun tilts his head a little, and Kageyama understands. The melody and the rhythm are what Kuroo wrote, but those lyrics must be Suga’s.

He’s humming when they get into the living room, sitting on the couch with his laptop open. “What’s up,” Mattsun says. He goes to the fridge, pulls out his half-depleted Pom, and takes one infinitesimal sip.

Suga smiles at them. He has a fresh bleach on his roots for a full head of toned platinum. He says he gets a good deal with his hairdresser. “Hey, guys. Here with Kuroo. Good class?”

Whatever _with Kuroo_ means. “Sure. Two weeks to finals,” Kageyama says.

“Like I don’t know it,” Suga sighs. “It’s weird thinking that I’m almost done. Like, done done.”

He graduates at the end of this term, three and a half weeks from now. Kageyama envies it badly. “That’s insane.”

Suga closes his laptop and smiles. “And then after grad school I’ll be _done_ done.”

“You’re telling me,” Mattsun calls from the kitchen.

“All of you are demented.” Bokuto waltzes out from his room while he puts on his sweatband. “I could never.”

He could if his parents were still alive. He’d have the money and the sanity.

He stands there with his hands on his hips. Kageyama looks him up and down. The last time he wore this turquoise tank top it was too tight, but now it looks okay, and he seems reddish on his chest and neck like he’s sunburned or something. The free ends of his ribbon seem a little longer, wrinkles at the parts where it used to knot. There’s a cut right underneath it that he got on Friday, jumping out of a tree he tied a ribbon to.

Suga smiles up at him. “We’re all mad here.”

Bokuto grins and tenses his shoulders for a second.

Kuroo comes in putting a fresh Newport between his lips, holding sheet music, and tilts his head at Mattsun in the kitchen. “Let’s get the synth in here.” He looks at everyone. “Akaashi’s got another ten. Here’s the edited scores, start looking them over.” He hands them to Suga to distribute. “We have a title now.” He goes with Mattsun to his room.

Bokuto blinks at his sheet music, squinting at the new title. “‘Fess Up.’” He looks at Kageyama.

Kageyama shrugs.

After two hours of rough run-throughs, restarts, replays of one section at a time, and pauses to make notes in scores, they have a full song on their hands. It’s definitely Kageyama’s style—too complicated, unexpected chords, a key change between the verses and the chorus and a time change for the bridge, gritty as usual but upbeat and sort of psychedelic with ‘80s-reminiscent synth. Kuroo is, as Hinata might unfortunately say, fit for his craft.

And two hours later, in the middle of another run, Bokuto is on it—flushed and panting because he’s on another level, fidgeting with his sweatband, but for some reason he’s not that sweaty. It crosses Kageyama’s mind that Bokuto has to pay money for his ecstasy. Pay to be up this high, grinning and having the time of his life and hitting licks made for real stages in stadiums.

But what can he say? What is he _supposed_ to say?

Next to him on the couch, Akaashi is looking at his phone. He’s the only one allowed to do that during practice without Kuroo getting on him for it. (Kageyama probably could, but he’s too afraid to test it. A couple of weeks ago, Mattsun had the audacity to look at a message at the end of a run of “Ultraviolet Moth,” and Kuroo called him out immediately. Mattsun said sorry, it was his dad, and Suga shot Kuroo this look and then asked Mattsun if he needed to go talk to him, and Mattsun just shook his head and looked at his keyboard, and Kuroo didn’t apologize.) But Akaashi is the manger, and he’d probably give it back to Kuroo if he ever tried with him.

Kageyama watches a frown furrow Akaashi’s brow. He sighs quietly enough that Kageyama almost doesn’t hear it over the music.

“What?” he asks.

Akaashi shakes his head. “Look at this,” he mutters. He turns his phone screen toward Kageyama.

It’s a metronome, 186 BPM, blinking white for every quarter note Bokuto plays. Every single one.

Bokuto is good, has been drumming for years, but when they’re learning a new piece he tends to rush until he’s played it fully some forty times and has it down in muscle memory. Between today and Friday it’s been, what, maybe ten?

“Jesus,” Kageyama says.

“He’s keeping perfect time.” Akaashi shuts off his phone. He puts it in his pocket, crosses his arms, and leans back to watch Bokuto.

_It does that. It makes me perfect. When I’m rolling, I’m invincible._

It was dumb of Kageyama to ever think Akaashi might not know. Whether Bokuto has told him is another thing, but Akaashi isn’t blind or stupid. The look on his face makes Kageyama’s skin feel weird.

“Wait, hold on a second.” Suga waves his hand, lowering his mic. The music stops, and sometimes Kageyama forgets how loud it actually is inside this living room.

“What is it?” Kuroo asks.

Bokuto silences his cymbals.

“Before the chorus there,” Suga says. “It needs more, like…notes. It’s too bass-heavy and muddy.”

Kuroo frowns.

The tension spikes in the room. Mattsun averts his eyes and inspects his keyboard. Kageyama glances to see what Akaashi thinks, but he’s just watching Bokuto chug half a bottle of water.

“What do you mean?” Kuroo says. “I’ve had that line since Friday.”

Suga shrugs a shoulder. “I feel like Issei needs more there, especially the few bars leading in since I’m not singing. It’s all distorted first string, which is fine, but we need actual music too.”

Kuroo takes his hand off his strings and they make a discordant hum in his amp. “Actual music.”

Kageyama tucks his hands in his armpits. There must be dust on Baby’s keys. Bokuto is still drinking.

Suga moves his mic in some gesture. “You know what I mean.”

“The bass is more important in this song,” Kuroo says.

Suga frowns back, looking confused. “Are you kidding? You know how much we need Issei’s parts—for Christ’s sake, we don’t have a guitarist. If I’m not singing there, someone needs to be providing a melody.”

“How often do we have just me in a song, Suga?”

“And that’s _those_ songs, not this one.”

“I wrote all of them.”

“Don’t pull that card.”

Kuroo opens his mouth to reply but Bokuto interrupts it on his drums with the intro riff for Pornhub.

Silence. Suga and Kuroo look at Bokuto then glance at each other and glance away. Mattsun smiles at the dust on his keys, Kageyama relaxes his shoulders down, and even Akaashi’s arms aren’t crossed as tightly anymore. If there’s one thing Bokuto can do, it’s diffuse.

“Now that we’re done giving it to each other,” Bokuto says, picking his water back up. He grins.

Suga nods. “Thank you.” He glances at the drums. “I guess. Can we all give some input here?” He turns to them.

Who will risk his life first?

Akaashi, the bravest in the room. “I mean, as a listener, I agree with Suga,” he says. Suga puts a hand out, and Kuroo eyes it but looks at Akaashi. “It’s in major key, so it needs that feeling about it.”

Kageyama tells himself to just say his opinion too—do it or forfeit his personal dignity. “The bass is cool,” he says, accidentally glancing at Kuroo’s eyes, “but, uh, it definitely needs a melody since it’s, like, pretty low and crunchy there.”

Mattsun hums, saving him from any backlash that might happen. “I agree with Suga and not just because I’m synth. The transition into the chorus will be better if we have some chords there instead.” He talks with a gentle hand and his glasses do that anime flash. Suga brushes back his hair and nods in agreement. “What if we move your thing to the bridge,” Mattsun suggests. “Mess with the key a little, and for that pre-chorus we’ll have more of me? Makes your line seem different on purpose and we can give the bridge a different vibe than the main. Works with the time change, too.”

Negotiation—one of Mattsun’s specialties. He’ll make a great businessman. Now they just need to close the deal.

Bokuto pedals his hi-hat once. “That’s it, dude. I like it. I like it a lot.”

They wait while Kuroo thinks. “So, you’d just be maintaining the progression there?” he asks eventually.

Mattsun shrugs a shoulder. “I mean, I could fancy it up a bit, like, not just holding chords, but yeah. I feel like it’ll connect Suga’s part better between verse and chorus.” He flicks his eyes over to Suga and he nods again.

Kuroo hums, looks down at his bass. “Would F-sharp be too out of it?”

He plays his line again but changes the time signature to fit the new section, changes notes to make the original key sound almost nonexistent but good bar by bar, syncopates the rhythm. He’s really skilled, his version of slap bass that makes the tendons in his hands stand out, and it sounds awesome. Suga is nodding along to it until Kuroo stops and lets it go.

Bokuto says, “I think I just came.”

Mattsun snorts. Akaashi pinches the bridge of his nose and Bokuto giggles at him.

“I really like it,” Suga says.

A singular nod from their bassist. “All right. Done.”

In the end, for Kuroo and all his ego, it’s still about the music.

“Should we take it from the top?” Suga asks. He turns and grins at Mattsun. “Issei, this is a test of your improv skills.”

Mattsun salutes him and pushes some buttons on his mixer. “You’re on.”

“Let’s go,” Bokuto says. When he lifts a drumstick up and spins it, something he’s done probably thousands of times, he fumbles and almost drops it, catching it before it hits a cymbal. His hands are shaking and Kageyama wonders if he’s headed back down.

Bokuto just makes a _whoops_ face at Akaashi and then clicks them in.

The song sounds way better, and after a few runs, Mattsun has most of his new part figured out and written into his score. Kuroo is basically doing a solo in the bridge—Bokuto and Mattsun’s parts bare and supporting only, and Suga’s lyrics sparse—so he’s appeased. By halfway through the fifth run, the song sounds like they’re ready to record another of their useless demos on Kuroo’s laptop.

They’re on the second chorus and Suga’s voice is starting to sound beat when Akaashi sits up straighter in the corner of the couch, looking again at his phone. “Holy…”

Kageyama is the only one who can really hear it. “What?”

He shouts over them. “Guys.”

They stop again. Bokuto sticks his lips out while he silences his cymbals. “Aw, Kaashi, that was a good one.”

“This is a better one.” Akaashi holds his phone up. “We just got an offer to play up in Roseneau at the botanical garden. Us and only a few other bands. It’s for some environmental charity thing.”

“You’re joking,” Suga says, stepping closer to look at the screen.

“No shit?” Kuroo asks.

Akaashi shakes his head while Suga looks around like he’s already preparing in his mind what they’ll pack and how to get five hours away. Bokuto starts shaking his leg. “None,” Akaashi confirms.

“Are we getting paid for a charity show?” Mattsun asks.

“Two thousand.”

Whoa. Definitely more than they’ve gotten anywhere else. And at a benefit gig? They played a local benefit with KBU last September and got paid three hundred for half numbers and were grateful even for that much.

“So this is like, fancy?” Kageyama asks.

Akaashi nods. “This isn’t just a show, this is an _event_.” He looks through his phone again, and Kageyama can hear his manager voice coming out. “Important people will be there, not just college kids. We’re dressing well and playing our upbeat, major key songs, and the slowest ones we have. ‘Silver’ is out immediately, maybe even ‘Manor.’ But this new one could work. Definitely ‘Garden Terrace.’” He scrolls some more. “Short notice—it’s this Saturday at eleven.”

“Are we going?” Bokuto asks, big eyes up at everyone.

“Oh, we’re going,” Kuroo says.

“Hold on.” Suga puts an easing hand up. “First of all, how did we get this offer?”

“From the festival,” Akaashi says.

Kageyama gets flashbacks of a brief step into purgatory. He puts his hand in his pocket to cradle his phone.

“Apparently three other bands got picked there,” Akaashi explains. “Two indie ones, and I think those girls that were on before us who are apparently from Tennessee. This is legitimate. A cordial invitation to bands from the area.”

Suga raises his eyebrows, bringing the hand to his chest. “Okay then. Well, I’m available if I finish stuff this week. I’ll ask my supervisor—she’ll probably give me an okay since I’m nearing my thesis conclusion. Is everyone else free?”

“To head up on Friday,” Kuroo decides, which is definitely his job because he’s the only one with zero obligations.

Suga looks at him then turns specifically to Mattsun. “Issei?”

Mattsun dusts off his keys again while he thinks. “My last test for micro is on Wednesday, capital-equity on Friday. My accounts presentation isn’t until next Tuesday, so…I guess I can use Monday to work.” He keeps his calm face even though Kageyama knows he’s already starting to get anxious just thinking about it all.

“Are you sure?” Suga asks.

Mattsun nods, pushing up his glasses. “It’ll work.”

“And I don’t have work,” Bokuto says. “Not until Monday and we’ll be back in time.”

“Keiji and Tobio?”

“I wouldn’t have jumped on it if I couldn’t,” Akaashi says.

Kageyama shrugs when everyone looks at him, and shrugs a little more obviously when he meets eyes with Kuroo. “Yeah, I’m down.”

“Then we’ll double up this week and practice both Thursday and Friday before we drive there,” Kuroo says.

Well, did he not call it? He looks up at Mattsun who’s looking down at him.

Kuroo notices. “Is there a problem with that?”

Neither of them wants to say it first, to go against Kuroo, but Akaashi and Suga can’t do it for them. In the end, it’s Mattsun’s thing, so Kageyama forfeits his dignity this time and looks somewhere else.

“I’m probably meeting someone on Thursday,” Mattsun says. “After classes.”

“Like an advisor?” Kuroo asks.

Mattsun pushes at his glasses again. “Like a date.”

Kuroo blinks—the most surprise he ever really shows.

Bokuto chokes on the water he picked back up and sputters. “Wait _what_?”

“Really?” Suga asks. “When did this happen?”

“Uh…over the weekend.”

“Remember Pink Hair?” Kageyama asks.

Bokuto’s eyes go wide and Akaashi cocks his head. “Dude—him? From Savannah?” Bokuto says. “What’s his name? How’d you find him?”

“Hanamaki Takahiro. He goes by Makki. He messaged Tobio,” Mattsun says.

Kageyama shrugs. “He pulled a hard indirect and I passed it on.”

“Does he go here?” Bokuto asks.

Mattsun shakes his head. “Lander. Not too far.”

“That’s great,” Suga says. “I mean, I think we can all agree that warrants missing an extra practice.” He looks around and lands last on Kuroo. “Yes?”

Kuroo doesn’t nod along like everyone else, so they pool their courage and, to protect Mattsun, gang up on Kuroo.

“I think definitely,” Akaashi says. “If there’s one person we can count on to perfect his part in a day, it’s Issei. He just did flawless improv on the spot.”

“It’s mostly chord progression anyway,” Kageyama points out. “And you’re already an ad-lib master, dude.” Mattsun smiles a little and thanks him with another glasses adjustment.

“And we still have Friday,” Bokuto says.

“And you deserve it,” Suga says. It feels final and accomplished, and Mattsun is having a hard time not looking embarrassed and really thankful. He seriously likes this guy.

Eventually, Kuroo says, “You better make it worthwhile, man.”

Kageyama wants to fist pump, but he holds it in. Mattsun says, “So far, he’s worth it.”

_I can’t wait to text you about this, Shou._

“Then I want everyone else practicing on Thursday,” Kuroo says, “and Friday we finish it off. This earns us exposure to a different demographic, so we need to make it even better than the festival was. We’ll have to figure out rides and where we’re gonna stay. And how to pay for it.”

“How we’re going to manage to bring all of our equipment _and_ all of our personal stuff,” Suga says. He runs a hand through his hair that Kageyama knows requires some products.

An idea happens in Kageyama’s head. “Wait—you said it’s at a botanical garden, right?” Akaashi nods. Kageyama puts his hands together. “You guys remember Shouyou? Uh—Hinata?” He flicks his eyes to Kuroo which is probably really obvious and a mistake, but he’s just looking back at him.

“Your friend you brought to The Room,” Suga says.

Kageyama hums. “He has this other friend we hung out with once. Not Tsukishima—his name is Yamaguchi Tadashi and he’s like a botany major and plant freak, and also a really nice guy, and also rich and has a Range Rover…” He trails off.

“You’re saying he’d help out?” Suga asks.

“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to ask him,” Kageyama figures. “If he has the time, he’d probably enjoy the trip and, like, might be able to help us get a place to stay—”

“Please ask,” Mattsun says. “I don’t feel like staying in another Super Eight like in Raleigh.”

“Or that time we slept in a Walmart parking lot in the van. Together,” Bokuto says with a snort. Akaashi grimaces at the memory.

“That would be great,” Suga says. “Tell him to bring a friend too, if he’d be more comfortable.” He asks with his eyes, and they’re definitely hard to say no to.

“No guarantees, but I’ll text him,” Kageyama says, holding up his phone. “I’ll post about the show, too.”

“I’ll send you the info,” Akaashi tells him.

Suga nods like it’s all final. “Awesome. I guess someone important did see us, then.” He gives Kuroo a tight smile and keeps talking before anyone has anything to say about that. “Roseneau it is. Keiji—you’re the greatest, as always.”

“Tell me about it,” Bokuto says, grinning at his boyfriend. Akaashi gives him an almost imperceptible wink.

Suga starts talking to Kuroo about preparations, Akaashi goes into his phone again, and Mattsun flips through his sheet music. Kageyama finds his messages with Yamaguchi.

**_Kageyama_ ** _: quick question- have you ever been to Roseneau?_

When he looks up, Bokuto holds up the last of his water, inspecting it through the bottle for whatever reason until he just shrugs and reaches into his pocket. Kageyama can’t see what he takes out—maybe it’s Adderall, but probably it’s not.

He looks over at Akaashi. Akaashi looks suspicious of it but hides it really well, as if he’s not even looking at Bokuto but he is, and Kageyama wishes he could just pretend he doesn’t notice so he can be emotionally uninvolved. But he can’t this time—he cares too much about Bokuto and his health. He’s had a lot of shit in his life and is around things with his job that it’d probably be better if he wasn’t.

“I’m so freaking excited,” Bokuto says as his hi-hat rattles from his shaking leg. When he puts the pill in his mouth and dumps the rest of the water in, he swallows funny and coughs. Akaashi looks at him sharply and says, “Be careful,” and it doesn’t sound like he means it for that. Bokuto smiles at him, the ultimate optimist, as if nothing could ever go wrong.

Yamaguchi is typing.

**_[leaf]_ ** _: No? Why??_

**_Kageyama_ ** _: i have a proposition for you_

**_Kageyama_ ** _: consider this: good music, good friends, saving the planet, and more plants in one place than youll ever see in your young life_

**_[leaf]_ ** _: I’m listening…_


	11. Roseneau I: Arrival

_FRIDAY_

* * *

“So we’re staying _two_ nights?” Bokuto asks, shoving his head between the front seats to gaze closer out the windshield. He’s been singing really for loud half of the trip, talking nonstop about ideas that don’t really fit together. He took something—Kageyama doesn’t even have to guess anymore. Akaashi is already fed up with him, and so were Mattsun and Suga but they’re too nice to say anything, and Kuroo tried once but it lasted fifteen minutes until finally Akaashi told him to shut up. Now he pulls Bokuto back and gives him a look. Bokuto sits back down, grinning at him, and plants a kiss on his cheek and a hand on his leg.

“Your friend said the place is about twenty minutes from the garden, right? Like an AirBnB?” Suga asks from the front.

Yamaguchi said he wants to stay until the event is over at seven to get as much of the garden as possible, and that he doesn’t want to drive five hours home that late, so he asked if they could stay a second night tomorrow after the show. None of them were going to argue since they’d be booking the cheapest space in another Walmart parking lot right now without him. They were just lucky he could leave his plants for a day and didn’t have too much work this week. This show hits right in that sweet spot between last tests and actual final exams.

Kageyama hums a yes. “Tonight and tomorrow.”

“We owe him,” Suga says. “Big time.”

“Sweet.” Bokuto flops back against the seat. He touched up his hair, streaky again but more purple this time, alarmingly so. “I wonder if we’ll have to share rooms,” he lilts quietly. “I’d be with Kaashi so you could always offer half of your bed…” He wiggles his eyebrows at Kageyama.

Yeah, Tsukishima was “busy,” even when it was Yamaguchi asking. Hinata, on the other hand…how could he pass up a chance to go on a trip with a really hot fine arts grad bass player who always smells like cigarettes who he worships? Plus, like, his other best friend and some guys?

And still, the thought of sharing a bed with Hinata leads to other things in Kageyama’s imagination. He silently tells his hormones to frick off because last time this happened, he was alone and he could take care of it, but now everyone’s here on this trip and he’s gonna try to not be weird or transparent like Mattsun said. And he shouldn’t have picked grey sweatpants.

He means to say something like _shut up_ but he accidentally says, “In my dreams.”

Bokuto snorts loudly.

Brick and stone buildings pass by outside the van, patches of grass here and there, city lights in the distance. Kageyama would roll his window down but he’d just be getting Kuroo’s smoke blowing in his face. It was an interesting scene, getting this cigarette: Kuroo was driving with one hand and messing with the auxiliary in the other, so he asked Suga to get one for him; Suga, despite hating any smoking and especially when Kuroo smokes in the van, getting the box and tapping one out and digging Kuroo’s lighter out of his front pocket. The only word that came to Kageyama’s mind was _enabler_. For anyone else, never.

Yamaguchi is driving behind them with all their bags, some cables, and the hi-hat (cymbals off) in his trunk. Hinata is in the passenger seat in a striped tee and navy chinos, comfortable on a leather seat that Kageyama is pretty jealous of but not because he’s not the one sitting on it.

Ten-thirty; almost there. His phone chimes in his pocket.

**_Shou [tangerine]_ ** _: Couple more minutes. Tadashi says we’re staying in some uni residential area off campus_

**_Shou [tangerine]_ ** _: Also your right taillight went out like fifteen mins ago :)_

Kageyama snorts. He sends back: _lmao not gonna tell Kuroo about that one until we’re home._

Suga’s phone says in two miles make a left, and their destination is on the right.

At ten thirty-five, they pull up in front of an old-looking but big two-story house. A whole house with windows and a porch and multiple bedrooms. This can’t be it, right?

“This can’t be it,” Mattsun says, leaning a bit to look up at the place. Akaashi does too, shutting off his phone screen.

“Jesus,” Kuroo says. He opens his door first and they all pile out.

Bokuto crawls out from the van, hops down onto the ground last behind Kageyama and gazes up at the house. “Did we like, put a down on this or something?” Kageyama asks.

Suga looks at him, hands on his hips. “When I said we owe your friend, I meant it.”

“It really wasn’t bad,” Yamaguchi calls, shutting his door behind him. Kageyama turns to look and Hinata is getting out, too. At some point during the drive, he cuffed the legs of his pants up to his lower calves, revealing skin.

_So we’re turned on by ankles now, huh, Tobio?_

He smiles at Hinata by accident, but Hinata smiles back.

Yamaguchi says, “I asked my dad if Shouyou and I could take a weekend trip here for the garden and he gave me like two thousand.”

In other words, their entire paycheck. Mattsun laughs, air through his nose: _My dad would never_.

“I’m glad I could get this place since I’m only twenty,” Yamaguchi says. “Probably because it’s a college area. I mean.” He comes to stand next to them and shrugs, wearing a T-shirt with a giant hibiscus on the front. “It’s only eight hundred for two nights cause it’s kind of old—”

“We live in a shed,” Bokuto says. “This is the Versailles.” He sticks his fist out and Yamaguchi bumps.

“We still owe you,” Suga says. “For this and for your help.”

“He gets to go to the garden—that’s all he needs.” Hinata waves a hand, as if a five-hour drive and eight hundred dollars is really nothing for Yamaguchi’s dazzling personality and bank account.

“We appreciate it,” Kuroo says. Saying it unprovoked means he actually means it. He’ll do anything for the exposure—even show some emotion.

Yamaguchi just grins and waves them all to the trunk of the Rover.

Kageyama finds Hinata’s side. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Hinata says. “Okay ride?”

“Bo’s whacko.” He looks over at Bokuto, his arm around Akaashi’s waist while he kisses his cheek a lot and Akaashi squints his eye closed. “How many rooms does this place have?”

Hinata laughs. “Six. Looks like four of us are doubling up.”

“Oh.” _Grey sweats, Tobio, calm down. It’s just ankles. No big deal._

_Ankles…and that face._

They get their stuff: the small duffel that Akaashi and Bokuto are sharing, Mattsun’s backpack, Kuroo’s, Suga’s and a garment bag that’s holding his best white silk—actual silk this time. All the ribbons are in the duffel except for Bokuto’s on his arm. Yamaguchi hoists out a carry-on suitcase with sunflowers on it and starts rolling it up toward the house. Hinata is struggling to reach a maroon Fjällräven Kånken that got shoved way in the back of the trunk on the fold-down seats behind the hi-hat stand. Kageyama takes pride in his extra four or five inches and pulls it out for him.

“Travel bag?” he asks.

Hinata smiles, almost a little embarrassed. He takes it, zips shut the outside pocket really quick, and hugs it to his chest. “Yeah. Basic, I know.”

“I’ve kind of always wanted a blue or black one.” But he doesn’t exactly have eighty dollars lying around, and if he did, it would be going straight to food.

“What if they made navy tie-dye?” Hinata asks.

Kageyama pauses. “Then eighty bucks might be worth it.”

Hinata smiles at him again. The sun isn’t out, but he doesn’t need it to look good. It reminds Kageyama of the night after he brought Hinata backstage, when he got his number and made things harder on himself, and yet so much better. “Somehow, it works on you,” Hinata says.

Cool. Either Kageyama is going to need to find a bathroom or change his pants to something less revealing.

A light flicks on inside the house, and Yamaguchi calls out from the front doorway, waving an arm over his head. “It smells like sage and moth balls! You guys wanna order way too much food?”

“My god,” Kageyama hears Mattsun say to Akaashi. Bokuto throws a fist in the air and starts running with his ribbon trailing out behind him.

In the living room, Young the Giant plays from a speaker that looks like a cactus that one of them brought. Two pizzas, a liter of Sprite and one of orange Fanta, some random dishes of Chinese food. Kageyama downs two pepperoni slices and one cheese and a whole dish of chicken and noodles, and Hinata watches him with an expression that’s half concerned and half impressed, and the rest of the lo mein. Mattsun has a modest two slices, some pomegranate juice he brought along in his thermos, and tells Yamaguchi about microeconomics as he tells Mattsun about microbiomes. Kuroo and Suga talk about the show, about the new song and how to perform this one. Bokuto struggles with chopsticks and individual grains of rice that he’s hyper-focused on, grinding his teeth, but his hands are shaking, and Akaashi next to him keeps reminding him to actually eat them because he’s losing weight.

“Just use a spoon,” he shoots at Bokuto, but Bokuto can’t hear him over maximum concentration. Akaashi eyes him, eyes his pocket, and eats a grilled pepper off a skewer.

“I don’t know,” Mattsun tells Yamaguchi, looking at his thermos. “I think I’ve been hooked since I was a kid. I need the glucose anyway.” He gives Yamaguchi his pizza crusts.

“I’m thinking no drenching myself this time,” Suga says. He eats pizza with the tips of his fingers and doesn’t spill any crumbs or dust. Kuroo actually laughs a little and nods to him.

“Am I freaking you out?” Kageyama folds his fourth slice and eats a quarter in one go.

Hinata winces. “You’re gonna get a stomach ache.”

He shrugs. “No way I’m letting free food go to waste. Besides.” He gives Hinata his devious grin, pizza in his cheeks. “You said you eat a lot, so I had to prove you wrong.”

Hinata gingerly twirls noodles, like eating even one bite might add on to Kageyama’s pain. “You wanted to finish the Goldfish, didn’t you?”

Kageyama stops with another bite halfway in his mouth but pulls it out. “Absolutely.”

Hinata shakes his head gravely.

“Okay, guys,” Yamaguchi says, turning down the music a few clicks from his phone. “So, how are we rooming?”

Kageyama has a suggestion, but it’s not like he’d ever say it out loud.

“It’s all double beds, right?” Suga asks. Yamaguchi nods.

“I was thinking, aside from who’s upstairs and downstairs,” Hinata says, “Tadashi and I would share a room and then,” he puts a hand out toward Akaashi and Bokuto. He asks with his eyebrows to Akaashi because Bokuto isn’t paying attention—he’s this close to getting a rice grain, but his hand has been held up for so long that it’s pale, veins visible, blueish. “You guys?” Hinata suggests. “And then the other four are singles?”

_Single as hell_ , Kageyama thinks.

Shrugs and nods go around, but then Kuroo says, “I’m sleeping in the van. Keep watch over the stuff.”

“Are you sure?” Yamaguchi asks, the only one concerned about it. “I’m sure it’s safe.”

Kuroo nods, and that’s answer enough. He reaches for a cigarette to seal the deal.

“Then if you two want your own rooms,” Yamaguchi offers to Akaashi.

He shakes his head right away. He probably doesn’t want to leave Bokuto alone. “We’re okay,” he says.

“You’re sure?” Hinata asks. Akaashi nods back, so he looks around and shrugs. “Okay. Then can I…take an upstairs room?”

“You two get whatever you want,” Suga tells him. Yamaguchi says he’ll do upstairs too, so Suga says, “I know Akaashi wants upstairs for noise, so I’ll take one of the downstairs. The other one? Issei, Tobio?”

Four rooms upstairs, two down, and one of each left. Kageyama waits again, but Mattsun sees right through him and probably doesn’t care where he sleeps. “I’ll take it,” he says.

Kageyama sends him a mental _Thanks, man_ , even though they both know that sharing a floor in the house with Hinata is still useless to Kageyama’s endeavors. Mattsun adjusts his glasses.

“Good. And two bathrooms.” Suga shuts the pizza box in front of him. “This goes without saying, but I want everyone so clean they’re reflecting light tomorrow. Comb your hair and stuff.” He doesn’t look at Kuroo, but doesn’t need to. Akaashi puts his hand on Bokuto’s back, and he startles and looks up, dropping the rice grain he managed to finally get. Suga smiles at him.

“I’m calling dibs on the upstairs bathroom,” Akaashi sighs.

It makes Kageyama suddenly think about Hinata in the shower, wet hair and tan skin and—

He covers himself with his takeout box just in case.

Suga gives everyone a thumbs up. “And thank you to Yamaguchi. Like, major thank you.”

“Thank _you_ guys,” he says. “Tomorrow will be so cool.”

“I’m looking forward to the show,” Hinata says, and he smiles in the direction of one person specifically.

Midnight. Yamaguchi and Hinata are in their rooms across the hall. Kageyama loiters in Bokuto and Akaashi’s while Akaashi finishes up in the bathroom. He listens to the water running with Bokuto lying next to him on the bed, slack on his side, a purple-headed ragdoll with his cheek squished in the covers. The hair makes him look paler than usual, with shadows under his eyes that won’t go away. His T-shirt is riding up off his hip and he definitely looks skinny. Jet’s _Get Born_ pours onto the bed away from his body.

Kageyama could ask if he’s beat, if he ate too much even though he knows Bokuto didn’t, but there’s no use pretending. “Coming down?”

Bokuto shrugs slowly. His brows are serious and his jaw is clenched tight like he’s going to break his teeth. “Already,” he says.

He was definitely on it on the ride here, and had residual effects left in him during dinner. He’s flattening out now.

Bokuto’s hand migrates toward his pocket, but then it decides not to and flops limp onto the bed again. A tremor goes through him.

Kageyama rubs his neck. “Yeah.”

“I try not to take them too soon before bed, you know?” Bokuto mutters. “I don’t like lying awake in the dark.”

Kageyama nods. “Makes sense.”

They pause. The shower next to the room shuts off.

“Cool place, huh?” Bokuto asks.

“Have you talked to Akaashi about it yet?”

Bokuto flinches, then melts a little more. “Eh.”

Kageyama nods. Rubs his neck again.

“Have you confessed to Hinata yet?” He smiles, that Bokuto grin with his golden eyes shining.

Kageyama can’t help but smile too, and he laughs with a nervous relief. Bokuto is still his best friend. “Eh.”

Bokuto laughs too, shifts, and his shirt pools out some more.

Akaashi’s footsteps come padding down the hall. He walks into the room in pajama shorts, shirtless, toweling his hair dry. Defined collarbones and shoulders, a thin waist that Bokuto can nearly fit his hands around, skin that still has a light sheen. He stops a few feet into the room and stands there looking at his boyfriend splayed on the bed.

Bokuto lifts his head and blinks at him. “God, you’re hot.”

He’s supposed to be all over Akaashi—it’s midnight, Akaashi is wet with no shirt, they’re sharing a bed in a new city, and Kageyama would say _Loud and clear_ and dip out to his own room. But Bokuto just closes his eyes again and rests his head back down on the bed.

Akaashi stands staring back.

And Kageyama is just sitting here when he suddenly wishes he wasn’t.

“You’re tired,” Akaashi replies.

Bokuto hums.

Akaashi glances at Kageyama. He glances back and considers just doing it, finally saying everything out loud, but maybe it’s more Akaashi’s decision. He would say it’s Bokuto’s, but Bokuto tends not to make the right one.

“Yeah,” he says, because it’s so quiet in here he’s getting scared.

Akaashi nods. He hooks the towel around his neck and his hair sticks up. “I think we’re going to sleep.”

Kageyama gets up quickly. “Sure. I’m gonna, uh.”

“I think Hinata is asleep already,” Akaashi says.

Kageyama blushes in embarrassment. “Yeah, cool. I’ll go ahead.”

Akaashi nods at him again. “Night, Tobio.”

“Night, guys.” He goes out into the hallway, shutting their door behind him. Through it, he hears Akaashi say a quiet _Koutarou_ , and would really rather he hadn’t.

He looks under Hinata’s closed door—no light. The hallway is quiet.

In his room, in his bed, he thinks about tomorrow and dreams about violet plants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for the story to actually start picking up now lmao. Thank you again to everybody who is commenting, leaving kudos, has subscribed, and is just reading this thing. I genuinely appreciate all of you!


	12. Roseneau II: Critical Hit

_SATURDAY_

* * *

The invitation said “summer smart casual,” and Kageyama fits the bill in real pants that Hinata should be proud of. He keeps tugging at the waistband where his shirt is, get this, _tucked in_ , but it’s just over seventy degrees out, cotton clouds that let the sun pass in and out, and he’s actually glad he’s not wearing a hoodie.

Their red ribbons flutter gently in the breeze and go great with the colors of all the flowers around them. Suga is almost always smart casual, with today’s silk and fitted jeans still perfect for the occasion. Bokuto’s shorts go down to just above his knees for once, navy uniform material, and a short-sleeved chambray. Akaashi is twill trousers and a white Mandarin collar, and Mattsun in one of his striped show shirts. Kuroo actually did his hair today with a little help from Suga and some mousse. The bangs still hang over his forehead on the right, but they’re styled messy on purpose, and the other side is slicked back over his ear. He’s in all black, a button-up with the sleeves cuffed to the elbow to show off his forearms or to let him play or whatever.

Kageyama holds his arms out, looks down at them, and doesn’t see any veins. Cool.

“Hot?” Hinata asks next to him.

Kageyama smiles and shakes his head.

There are no actual seats for the show. The stage, a platform with a huge white tent behind it to hide equipment, is set up in the middle of the lawn while everyone mills about the garden, free to come and go as they please. Kageyama is currently milling with Hinata and Yamaguchi, waiting for the band to get set up. The two of them explored half of the outdoors areas while Kageyama and the guys unpacked behind the stage. Some guests are two or twenty or eighty, and they definitely have a different audience this time around, nothing like The Room with an age range of max eight years and most of the people drinking. Akaashi wasn’t joking—this is an _event_.

Something Cool is on in a few minutes, and there was no way Hinata was about to miss that alternative J.Crew look. He probably dragged Yamaguchi away from the plants for this set.

“Everyone’s so sharp today,” Yamaguchi says as he watches the guys and Akaashi set up on stage.

He’s in a white tee with a soft yellow shirt open over top, loose beige linen pants, and two thin braids at the sides of his hair pinned back with clips that look like daffodils. Hinata’s hair is styled the same as usual, but it’s getting longer, like he needs a cut, and the slight messiness is kind of endearing—it’s fluffy, finger-running hair for sure. He has on a different pair of flat-fronts, this nice forest green color that looks stellar with the hair and his skin tone, and a white polo finishes off everything.

Kageyama takes a stealthy glance at the shorts, then looks casually away again. “Now I’m Real Pants,” he says.

Hinata tilts his head. “Huh?”

“Nothing.” He looks down at himself. “I’m just not used to like, slacks I guess.”

Hinata looks him up and down and Kageyama feels like a microbe on 1000x. “They look good on you. Definitely not joggers, huh?” Hinata says. He smiles.

_Chill out, Tobio, or you’ll start sweating_. He swallows. “Definitely not.”

“Will there be fewer songs today?” Yamaguchi asks.

“Same as at The Room,” Kageyama says. “Seven. We’re keeping it kind of tame, happier songs and stuff. Fit the mood.”

Hinata almost gasps. “No ‘Manor’?”

Kageyama shrugs in consolation. “Have the plants been good to you?”

“Oh my god,” Yamaguchi swoons. “Amazing. The coleus and plectranthus collections were gorgeous, and there was this massive vinery with walls of ivy and wisteria and trumpets. The diversity here is staggering and we’ve only done like a third of the place.”

“We haven’t even been in your fancy geodesic dome yet,” Hinata laughs.

Yamaguchi puts a hand on his head. “The _dome_. I can’t wait.” He targets Kageyama with a grin. “Way to keep that a secret from me, by the way.”

Kageyama smiles a little. “It’s gonna be nice.”

Hinata snorts. “His camera roll is shaking.”

Kageyama snaps his fingers. “Thanks for reminding me.” He pulls out his phone and gets his camera ready. “Instagram’s gonna love today’s aesthetic.”

Hinata laughs at him.

On stage, Bokuto, an hour into a pill already, is twisting at his hi-hat, swaying a little to whatever’s in his head while Mattsun, halfway through his thermos of juice, is messing with his mixer. Kuroo’s ribbon is an eye-catching satin gash on his thigh as he scoops his fourth string into tune, plucks the G with deft bassist’s fingers.

Hinata claps quiet hands. People around them look toward the stage.

“Time to help save the planet.” Kageyama poises his phone at the ready. “Let’s go, Suga.”

The show runs perfectly—no mistakes, exact time on drums, the new song going smoothly and Mattsun’s part sounding clean and right for the setting. He dusted on some classical flare without telling any of them, and Kageyama could see the thrown-off look on Kuroo’s face and just wanted to clap Mattsun on the back, buy him another Pom when they get home. The slight animosity is stupid for him to feel, but watching Hinata watch Kuroo cuts with a pretty blunt knife.

But it’s good—definitely different from the festival, no cheering and young college kids and girls losing their minds over boys. Even the older crowd seemed to enjoy the show—good call on Akaashi’s part with the song choices—and Kageyama is pretty sure he caught this cougar eyeing Suga, which makes sense. It was the tamest they’ve been on stage, with Suga practically dry of any soft boy sweat, his cheekbone highlight intact with the nice air and his casual command of the platform, attractive in his outfit, well-sung and well-spoken. One of the conditions for being in the show was a speech regarding the cause, and they gave him guidelines, but he improvised in the moment and dug in on his opinions about the environment. He’s actually knowledgeable, and seemed professional with the mic in his hand. Maybe linguistics majors naturally have charismatic speeches and soft spots for the planet. Or maybe Suga’s just really cut out for this.

As Suga is leaving his final remarks following today’s closer, Akaashi, next to Kageyama, murmurs, “Laser vision.” It’s not a phone day so he came to actually watch the show.

Kageyama follows the gaze he’s talking about: Hinata’s, up to stage right. No cigarette for this show—Kuroo wouldn’t want to burn the place down or look bad in front of important people. “Searing,” Kageyama agrees, feeling the pettiness in his chest.

Akaashi pats his shoulder. “Backstage.”

Kageyama nods and holds up five minutes. Akaashi shrugs and heads to the tent.

“That was my favorite show so far,” Yamaguchi says. “More my style of music.”

“It was weird not having, like, the usual,” Hinata says. He looks up at Kageyama. “Something _Kinda_ Cool.”

Kageyama snorts. “What’d you think of the new one?”

Hinata’s brows lift up. “Oh, it was awesome. Nice piano part. What’s it called?”

“‘Fess Up,’” Kageyama tells him.

Hinata tilts his head. “Cool. Suga is made for performing.”

“He belongs onstage,” Yamaguchi agrees.

“Definitely.” Kageyama goes to put his hand in the pocket of his joggers but it slides against the fitted leg of his pants. He recovers by touching his hair then hooking a thumb at the stage. “Uh, I probably have to pack up. Are you guys going to the dome?”

Yamaguchi sees the chance and grabs Hinata’s wrist. “Take a guess.” Hinata eyes him, but Yamaguchi says, “We saw yours, now we’re seeing mine.”

Knife: twisted.

“That’s a yes,” Hinata says, lips in a line. Kageyama chuckles.

Yamaguchi starts pulling. “There’s an orchid collection _and_ a tropical forest, and I’m not about to miss it.”

“We’ll come find you?” Kageyama figures.

They both smile at him, but he only really sees Hinata’s. “Welcome to the jungle,” Hinata calls over his shoulder, stumbling away.

“We got everything you want,” Kageyama mutters to himself. He sighs and misses both pockets this time.

Bokuto is bleeding when he gets backstage. He’s sitting in a chair with his right leg propped horizontally on the other knee, the back of his ankle skinned off and beading blood that drips onto the grass. His hair is a mess under his sweatband and the sock is stained dark. He should be crying, but he’s grinning instead.

Suga stands next to him watching Akaashi, on his knees on the ground starting to wrap gauze from a first aid kit with someone from the event hovering nearby. The next band is camping in the corner of the tent, giving them looks, waiting for the stage to be cleared.

“Dude, what the hell,” Kageyama says.

When he gets closer, he can see Bokuto’s pupils dilated huge. “I fell, dude,” Bokuto says. He laughs.

Akaashi pushes Bokuto’s hand away when he tries to touch the gauze. “Jumped down the stairs,” he says, “and missed.”

Kageyama considers looking over at the rough steps that were built to get up on the platform, but he doesn’t really want to see skin hanging off of them, blood soaking into the wood. “Jesus.” _Get ahold of this, Bo. Can you even feel that?_

“You’re lucky you didn’t break your ankle,” Suga says. “You need to be careful.”

In his head, Kageyama hears Akaashi saying _Be careful_ with that look on his face.

Bokuto shrugs. “Eh. What’s a broken ankle, anyway.”

Akaashi keeps focused on the gauze so he doesn’t have to look at Bokuto right now. He shakes his head. “It’s you not playing kick anymore, that’s what.” He exhales, pressing his lips together. Bokuto looks down at him with a sorry smile while he tapes down the gauze, and Akaashi won’t look up.

It’s this close. Kageyama feels it coming. It’s just a matter of time before Akaashi calls it out.

Suga sighs and looks at Kageyama. “Kuroo and Issei are packing up. I know your friends are here, but since we’re down a hand now, we could use your help.”

Kageyama nods. “Yeah. I got it.”

Akaashi stands up and gives the rest of the gauze back to the lady who brought the first aid kit, thanking her. Bokuto follows Akaashi with his eyes, but he won’t meet Bokuto’s gaze.

“Kuroo has,” Suga makes a motion with his hand that Kageyama doesn’t get, “decided he’s going to stay in the van while the rest of us catch up with your friends.” He crosses his arms, blinks deliberately.

“Probably wants to smoke,” Bokuto says. Looking up at him: “Kaashi.”

Akaashi walks up the steps to the stage.

Kageyama tries to shrug off this strange feeling that’s sitting on him. It doesn’t work. “Whatever he wants, I guess.”

Suga nods, looking around. “As always.” He looks down at Bokuto. “And you’re going to sit until that stops bleeding. Time out for roughhousing.” He gives Bokuto a smile, and his eyes don’t say _You’re crazy,_ they say _Please, Bokuto_.

“Sorry,” Bokuto giggles.

Kageyama rubs his neck and coughs once. “I’ll help out Akaashi then. Uh.”

Suga nods and waves him off. “Be there in a sec.”

Kageyama wants to look at Bokuto again, but Bokuto is smiling too much and bouncing his good leg to whatever exists solely in his mind.

He’s careful going up the steps to the stage, and doesn’t look down.

…

He catches the microwave at one second and pumps a fist. It’s the small victories that help ease the dread looming over him for a while.

“Tadashi,” he calls. “After being in the dome myself, I really think our plan holds up.” He walks out into the living room with his Styrofoam box of leftovers. Yamaguchi is alone on the couch, up late to talk. “Like, we might be onto something.” He collapses into a chair.

Yamaguchi grins. “Perhaps. Thanks again for inviting me, by the way. I’ve been to a couple gardens here and there, but I’ve never gotten to see a major one, dome included.”

Kageyama opens his box, fried rice steam wafting up at him. He readies his plastic fork, weapon of mass consumption. “Yeah, you definitely shouldn’t be thanking me or any of us. We owe you.”

“Ah, well.” He shrugs because he knows it’s true. “I mean, listen, I got to see the dome, the collections—the vinery and the coleus and the cactus and succulent area, all the ferns, palms, bromeliads in the tropical sector, the bamboo forest, the bonsai collection, a ba _jillion_ kinds of flowers, the waterfall and lily pads, all those freaking _orchids_. Anything I could have wanted. It was awesome.”

For the two or so hours left following getting everything back into the van after the show, they walked around with Yamaguchi and Hinata but without Kuroo. Yamaguchi was throwing out scientific names and facts for a good three-quarters of everything they saw, excited about literally every plant. Kageyama got to look at the architecture of the place—the gazebos, the bridges, the layout and the landscaping, the dome from inside and out. Bokuto hobbled along with them, taking a few pictures of Akaashi that he didn’t want to be in. Mattsun said his dad used to keep two bonsai in his office when he was a kid, and he was texting a lot and took some pictures to show Makki. Suga had a bee land on him, and, soft boy of forever, he took it to a flower and let it crawl off his shirt like some bee whisperer and Hinata was visibly impressed, big eyes and a dazzled _Whoa_.

It amounted to a good show and a good time. College is cool and the band is great, but just hanging no-obligations with his friends is top tier. They were lucky to get to come here.

Kageyama just ignored the blood seeping through the gauze and the photos of Akaashi coming out a little bit blurry every time because of the shaking.

“How’s Bokuto’s ankle doing?” Yamaguchi asks.

Kageyama shakes his head. “I told you guys he’s insane. Akaashi’s probably going to change the dressing tonight.” He shoves leftovers into his mouth. They got Wendy’s on the way home, but he finished that a while ago and he’s still stress-eating half his body weight. “Thanks for taking him to the store, too,” he mumbles through it. “That antibiotic stuff should help.”

Yamaguchi nods at him from the couch. “He seemed pretty worried about Bokuto, so I thought maybe it was serious. I’m glad it’s not too bad.”

_No, it is. Just not the ankle_.

He glances around. At nearly midnight, nobody else is here—Suga in his room, Akaashi and Bokuto upstairs, Hinata probably asleep an hour ago, Mattsun showering. He looks back at Yamaguchi and says, “Worried how?”

“Like, didn’t talk much. He looked kind of upset.”

Sounds right on character. “Yeah. He just…cares about him.”

Yamaguchi smiles. “I can tell.”

Kageyama leans to the coffee table and opens the pizza box there then remembers he already finished the last two slices before he made the rice. He leans back and finds his biggest chunk of chicken available and basically swallows it whole.

“You can really put it down,” Yamaguchi says, lifting an eyebrow at him.

Kageyama blinks. “Huh?” _Oh, yeah, just freaking out_. “Oh, yeah. It’s a stress thing. I think I’m actually gonna puke.” He shovels more rice in.

Mattsun comes out from the shower freshly clean, hair damp and his baby bangs hanging wavy over his brow. With them loose and without his glasses he’s softer, a little less angular, blind behind short dark eyelashes. He sits down across the couch from Yamaguchi and sinks into the corner. “I’m actually not thinking for once.”

“Nice,” Kageyama says, mouth full. “By the way, man—how’d Thursday go?”

“What happened on Thursday?” Yamaguchi looks between them.

“He went on a first date.” Kageyama wiggles his eyebrows and Yamaguchi perks up in Mattsun’s direction.

Mattsun sighs and adjusts glasses that aren’t there. “It was good.” He smiles a little.

Kageyama snorts. “Like, good good, or just good?”

“Good good.” Yamaguchi nods with surety. “That’s a good good smile.”

Mattsun chuckles, laying an arm over the back of the couch. He never looks this relaxed. “He’s really great, actually. We’re on the same wavelength about everything, and I feel like we genuinely connect. He’s…calming. And really easy for me to be around.”

Yamaguchi clutches at his heart.

Kageyama feels it. “You guys bang?”

Mattsun runs a hand over his face while Yamaguchi kicks a leg out at Kageyama. He just protects his rice. Part of him is teasing Mattsun, part of him is seeing if his vetting process turned out right at all.

“Nah,” Mattsun says.

“Did you at least kiss?”

Mattsun blinks at him and Kageyama takes comfort in the fact that he’s probably really blurry. “None of your business,” Mattsun says, totally chill. ( _That’s a yes._ ) “And if you think that’s slow,” he says, “then, what, three weeks now for you?”

Blood rushes to Kageyama’s neck and ears. Instant karma for messing with Mattsun. He glances at Yamaguchi. “Uh. Like—”

“I know,” Yamaguchi says. “About.” He tilts his head toward the stairs and it’s clear what he means. “Like, it’s not,” he looks at Mattsun, “hard to figure out.” Mattsun shakes his head.

Kageyama blinks, putting down his half-depleted fried rice. He nods. Nods again. “Right. So like.”

“I haven’t mentioned it to him,” Yamaguchi says. “Don’t worry.”

Kageyama nods some more. “Yeah, cool. Nice. Like, um—why not? Am I, like—”

Yamaguchi cuts him off with a genuine laugh. “Not at all.” He crosses his arms and leans back into the couch. “I mean, it’s just not really up to me, is it?” He tilts his head at Kageyama.

_In other words, grow some balls_. Jesus. It’s not like he thought it was a secret, but like… Mattsun really wasn’t exaggerating when he said he was clear as glass.

Inside he’s laughing maniacally at himself while he panics.

“I’m okay with it,” Yamaguchi says, and Mattsun nods like they’re in some conspiracy together. “I prefer you over option one. Like, _way_.” He puts a hand out toward Mattsun. “No offense to your friend.”

“None taken.”

Kageyama blinks again. “Uh.”

“I actually think you two would be cute. But you’re definitely stuck while he’s still stuck, huh?” Yamaguchi says.

Kageyama nods. “Yeah, right. Makes perfect sense.” He stands up all at once. “I think I’ll be right back.”

Yamaguchi looks immediately concerned. “Wait, are you okay?”

More nodding. “Yeah. Just gotta go hurl for a second.”

Yamaguchi sits up. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“No, you didn’t, it’s fine. I was already out. I ate way too much.” He starts sidestepping around the chair to get to the front door.

“It’s okay,” Mattsun assures Yamaguchi. “He’s just nervous.” Yamaguchi doesn’t look sure about it.

Kageyama laughs awkwardly and opens the door and takes giant steps out onto the grass.

Midnight. Deep navy sky, part of the moon, light pollution from the city. At the bushes around the side of the house, he stands there with his hands on his hips and his mouth pressed closed, looking at the leaves. He dry heaved like once and his stomach still feels weird, but it’s probably hormones and not food and he was just freaking himself out. Mattsun is the one with the actual panic attacks anyway—Kageyama just runs from emotional discomfort.

He sighs, figuring he definitely overreacted since nothing is actually different now than before. Can’t it just come easy to him like it did for Mattsun? But there’s one small difference: Mattsun knows Makki likes him. And maybe one other, way more important difference: he knows Makki _doesn’t_ like somebody else.

He nudges nothing with the toe of his shoe, staring at the ground. It’s hard to keep so many things in his head at once and it feels as though he’s keeping too many secrets. Too many sides to everything, and none of them the best one to take. Too many things, too many people to care about. And he can’t stop.

He sighs again, slumps his shoulders back down, tries to relax.

A sound comes from somewhere behind him. He looks over his shoulder but it’s just the side wall of the house. It’s probably Mattsun coming out from the front to check up on him. He starts thinking about what he’s going to say so he doesn’t sound like an idiot.

He sniffs and turns around, heading back around the house. If he looks really closely at the sky, there are some stars, but he knows nothing about constellations. He knows nothing.

Around the corner, anything he had left gets annihilated. He suddenly feels sick for a completely different reason.

They parked around the other side of the house earlier. When he was running outside, he didn’t see that the front light is on in the van. Two figures are obvious, one on top of the other. Bright orange almost blocking out messy black bangs that Suga helped style this morning. At least Hinata didn’t take his shirt off.

As Kageyama stands there, Hinata moves quickly from Kuroo’s lap back into the passenger seat. It looks like he’s pulling the forest green shorts back on, so Kageyama figures it’s ending about now. Kuroo is just sitting there, relaxed back against the headrest.

Kageyama stops. Stands there on the grass. He realizes everything and turns away coolly, casually. Diving into the bushes right now like in a cartoon would feel more real than this. He could throw up there, too, but he doesn’t want to throw up, doesn’t want to have seen this, doesn’t want to know. He starts taking steps back towards the front door thinking don’t worry about it it’s no big deal don’t look at me I wasn’t here and none of this happened.

One of the van’s doors opens and shuts behind him as he’s walking. He makes it up to the porch, only a few feet to the finish line.

“Please move.”

Too late. He can’t just walk back in now. To his heart and his ego, this is a critical hit.

He turns around. “Are you okay?”

Hinata is crying, the orange comma falling in his eyes. He stands on the ground at the bottom of the steps with one hand clutched in a fist at his side. The other hand brushes against the side of his shorts as if he’s wiping something off—tears, hair mousse, something else. His head is down, but Kageyama can see how hard he’s biting down on his lip.

“No. Please move.”

Kageyama’s voice gets caught in his throat. He moves aside from the top of the steps.

Hinata comes up and brushes past him, breath stuttering.

Kageyama swallows. “Do you want to, um, talk about it?”

Hinata pushes open the door, but then stops there, standing in the threshold looking out at Kageyama with the light inside surrounding him, tears sliding down his cheeks. “The last thing I want to deal with right now is another boy.”

It’s the final bit of damage. A hard slap to the face that knocks Kageyama out.

He watches as Hinata turns, goes inside to the stairs, and climbs them without another word.


	13. Roseneau III: The H of Spades

He stands on the porch, wading in the block of light coming from the doorway and the puddle of his own adrenaline and dignity that just got drained out of him. He still feels sick, but not physically anymore.

Every thought he’s had about Hinata’s crush being silly and unfair for him, like _he_ deserved to be liked and not Kuroo, like _his_ ego was the one being hurt, like Hinata’s feelings weren’t valid enough unless they were for him… How selfish. Now Hinata is actually crushed.

He turns and looks at the van. The light is off but Kuroo’s phone is on, barely illuminating his face while he takes a drag off a fresh cigarette. What a complete cliché. _Your right taillight’s out, asshole._

_Come on, dude, check back in. Ground Control to Major Tobio. What just happened?_

He looks through the doorway at the staircase.

Is this a reason for Hinata to finally get over it? Is it the only proof the rest of them now have—Kuroo finally caught sleeping with a boy?

Is that horrible for him to think of at all.

One part of him feels like this was a necessary evil—closure—but that part of him can go to hell right now. This was Kuroo capitalizing on his age and image and attitude and the power it for some reason gives him. People entertaining his bullshit, and the guys not enabling him but not stopping anything either. Maybe Kuroo just does whatever and whoever he wants.

The few steps to the doorway feel like they’ll crack and cave beneath him, sodden with pride and tears, and he’ll just keep going down forever. Who knows.

_Stop being dramatic, Tobio. Just figure it out. Do something for once. Make a choice. Walk in._

He approaches the threshold, and Yamaguchi and Mattsun just look at him. He exhales and is glad that Suga is already in his room. “Is everything okay?” Mattsun asks.

_Yeah, it’s great. Kuroo is a slut for guys too which, like, surprise I guess, or maybe he’s just a complete creep._ But he would never say that.

_Oh, and apparently I’m an asshole, too._

He steps in and shuts the door behind him. “Yeah. No.”

Yamaguchi’s eyebrows give away all his worry—over Hinata, the situation, Kageyama. “Is it about what I said earlier?” he asks.

Kageyama shakes his head. “No, it’s not that.” He almost wishes it was. That would be something he might actually have a little control over. “No, it’s, uh…it just, like—” He cuts off, moving a weak hand back in the direction of outside. “Kuroo.”

Yamaguchi’s mouth opens, but then he shuts it and nods. Mattsun looks down, pushing up imaginary glasses again.

“Uh. Maybe you could…go talk to him?” Kageyama says.

Yamaguchi just shakes his head. “He’ll want to be left alone for at least an hour.”

Kageyama nods. “Yeah.” He looks at the floor. “Right.”

“If you feel like it’s your fault, it’s not,” Yamaguchi says. “There’s really nothing you could have said. To change his mind.”

Kageyama shakes his head. “No, that’s not on me. He is.” He tilts his head at the door.

Mattsun does one dry laugh. “You know that’s bullshit, Tobe. That asshole?” He flicks his hand out dismissively and shakes his head. “Does whatever he feels like.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “We love the dude, but sometimes we really don’t like him,” he tells Yamaguchi.

Kageyama puts his hands in the pockets of his joggers and squeezes them into fists. “I’m gonna go to my room.” _Banish myself._

“He’ll be okay,” Yamaguchi says. “He’ll want to talk eventually. Don’t worry too much about it.”

He almost laughs at that. He nods, says, “Night,” and goes upstairs.

He showers, brushes his teeth. At one in the morning, he’s knocking on Akaashi and Bokuto’s door because he doesn’t want to be alone.

Akaashi opens it, rubbing his eye. “What, Tobio?”

“Sorry.” He stands there.

Akaashi reads him. He drops his hand to his side. “What happened?”

“We can’t tell Suga.”

“Tell him what?” Bokuto sits up and shines his phone flashlight, bright in Kageyama’s eyes.

“Holy shit,” Akaashi mutters when Kageyama explains it.

“I guess I can’t be sure,” Kageyama says, “but…”

“It was obvious,” Akaashi says, and Kageyama nods.

Bokuto’s eyes are big. In the dim of the room, his body is shivering. “So, is Kuroo, like…”

Kageyama shrugs. Akaashi closes his eyes.

“Maybe he is.” Bokuto starts chipping at his nail polish.

“I probably shouldn’t have told you guys, but since it’s Kuroo. And everything with Suga, and stuff.” Kageyama looks at his hands, and suddenly all of this feels so stupid and fake, like in a real world, none of it should be happening. “Don’t tell Shouyou I told you.” It comes out quieter than he meant.

“Don’t worry,” they tell him at the same time.

“Let’s leave it for now,” Akaashi says. “Who knows what will…” He stops.

“Is Hinata okay?” Bokuto asks.

Kageyama shrugs again. “I haven’t gotten to talk to him yet. He might be mad at me.”

Bokuto looks down and Akaashi says, “He’s just mad at things. And embarrassed. And probably mad at Kuroo.”

“No news,” Bokuto says.

Kageyama laughs once. “Yeah.” He swallows. “Sorry for waking you guys up.”

“It’s okay.” Akaashi pats his leg. “You should sleep. I’m sure he’ll be ready to talk tomorrow.”

He nods. “Yeah. Okay. Night, guys.”

Behind him as he’s walking out, Bokuto says quietly, “I want to go home.”

Back in his room, he lets himself die slowly on his mattress, and then opens Instagram. The photos he posted today have gotten a few thousand likes—really good pictures of all the guys and the garden. Three shots of everyone during songs with the dome in the background, the sun shining off the hexagons and the clouds reflecting back. A close-up on Suga with a lens flare off the chrome of his microphone. Mattsun with an imperial bonsai as tall and wiry as him. Bokuto crisscross on a bench amongst flowers and smiling huge with his shorts so big on him that the waistband is folded under the cinch of his belt at his hips, and holding one of three water bottles he drank, but he didn’t pee once until they got back. A video of the chorus in the new song. A group photo Hinata took of the six of them in front of the van, and everyone including Kuroo looks happy and unsuspecting. A caption talking about the environment, the show, we’re thankful for the opportunity, come see us to hear the new track next Saturday at The Room back in Normal.

Yamaguchi comes up the stairs and closes his door down the hall.

Kageyama sighs and rolls onto his back, holding his phone above him. The stats say that maquitos liked the post so he clicks into his account. There’s a picture from Thursday: two sheets of college rule covered in notes, math, and terminology, held up by a paler hand than Mattsun’s, and the caption says _Choose your fighter_. Mattsun’s handwriting is really sloppy next to Makki’s, and of course they would do schoolwork on a date. They probably helped each other. It’s the same thing Kageyama has done with Hinata but with connotations. Mattsun and Makki have kissed.

And Kuroo has slept with Hinata. Probably. What else.

Kageyama lies there, staring blankly at the light of his screen with the image in his head of Hinata climbing off of Kuroo’s lap. And then his mind is rewinding it, backtracking, filling in blanks, unbuttoning Kuroo’s shirt and letting Hinata’s hands brush over his chest and that stupid hawk tattoo, letting Kuroo’s hands touch Hinata’s thighs, his lower back, maybe even his cheeks and that gorgeous orange ha—

He drops his phone on his face. He curls onto his side and waits for the pain to go away, the physical one at least, until his mouth is just throbbing dully. He did nothing to deserve this, but maybe that’s the whole point.

He did nothing.

After a minute, he sits up. He gets off his bed, goes to his door, and peers out into the hallway. He expects all the lights to be off under the doors and they are. He almost closes himself back in before he realizes he can hear music, really quiet—“Transatlanticism,” and Hinata has really good taste, but he knew that already. He’s probably crying still, juicing out the sadness with sad songs.

Should he, or shouldn’t he?

He probably shouldn’t, but he’s going to anyway.

Down the hall at Hinata’s door, he knocks and says as quietly as he can, “Hey, Shou?”

The music shuts off and he hears movement on the bed, a sniff. “Hi, sorry. Tobio?”

Goosebumps ripple up his arms. “Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?”

A soft light turns on—a bedside lamp—and Hinata opens the door in a T-shirt and pajama pants with polka dots and blue socks. He’s definitely been crying—glistening eyes and puffy red lips. Kageyama tries to push away the thought that he looks really, really pretty.

“Hi,” Hinata says, his voice raspy. “Yeah, I’m.” He moves a hand.

“Okay. Do you wanna, like, maybe talk about it?”

Hinata sniffs again. “Not really.”

Kageyama nods. He needs to learn to take go away for an answer. “Okay, yeah.”

“But I should.” Hinata looks up at him, hand still on the door. “I kind of do.”

A pause. Kageyama tries to think. “Do you…want to go downstairs, or?”

“Hell no. Come in here.” Hinata grabs Kageyama’s sleeve, pulls him into his room, and shuts the door. Kageyama stands there, startled, while Hinata sniffs again and pushes his hair back. It falls haphazardly around his forehead in soft orange tufts. “I’m not going back down there until it’s light out.” He puts his hands on his hips.

“Whoa, wait.” Kageyama raises his hands. “Did something serious happen? Did he…”

Hinata squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “No, no, just… _ugh_.” He trudges to the bed and flops down on it face first. Kageyama sits next to him as he rolls onto his back. “Just emotional damage.”

Damn. Kageyama really feels that. “That sucks.”

Hinata lifts an eyebrow at him.

“I mean, I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “Sorry, that’s my automatic comfort response. I mean it. That seriously sucks.”

Hinata snorts and lets his head fall sideways. “Thanks. Sorry about the whole _another_ _boy_ thing by the way.”

“No, you’re right.” Kageyama scoots himself back and goes crisscross. “I get it.”

Hinata sits up with him, facing him. He puts his hands in his lap and looks down at them. “Yeah, but you’re not like that.”

Kageyama doesn’t say anything. He’s making no moves, no attempts, no assumptions tonight. Not after that.

After a while, he asks, “So…what happened?”

Hinata starts chewing his lip.

The back door of the house, he tells Kageyama, on the other side of the stairwell. Pretending like he needed something from the Rover, using it as a cover in case Kuroo asked him. Hoping Kuroo was still awake, and he was, and so Hinata went over to talk to him like it was all a coincidence.

“And he asked if I wanted to come in,” Hinata says. “That’s what he said: _Wanna come in?_ So I did. He didn’t even take me to the backseat.” He pauses, and Kageyama can see self-loathing pass over his face before he realizes himself that it’s not what he’s feeling, just embarrassment and a little shame. He clicks his tongue. “But it was exactly what I wanted. The little fantasy I had in my head when Tadashi invited me here, and the plan I made when Kuroo said last night that he’d sleep in the van. It was the perfect opportunity if he would just act on it how he’s been dangling it over my head this whole time since we met.”

It takes Kageyama a second to realize that it means Hinata has known it too, since he brought him backstage that day—that Kuroo was treating himself to the obvious infatuation, basking in Hinata’s attention because it had no consequence on him, knowing he could take it whenever he wanted should he be so inclined. Hinata isn’t oblivious. Does that mean he sees through Kageyama too?

_Not the time. Stop making this about yourself._

“I just didn’t think he actually would,” Hinata says, eyebrows up like he still doesn’t believe it. He sniffs again and tells the comforter in a quiet voice, “I even…” He shuts his eyes. “I even brought a condom. Two. In my backpack. I put one in my pocket before I went outside.”

Hinata stops for a long time. The pause is killing Kageyama, but he has absolutely no idea what to say. “Well, um…”

“And when we were done, he just sent me out,” Hinata says. “He said he was going to smoke and he knew I didn’t so I should go. He said what we did was cool and that he’d _see me around_ like he always says, as if we won’t see each other in the freaking morning. And I asked him—” His voice gets stuck and he swallows. “I _thanked_ him, and asked him if it was a thing or what, like, would it happen again or whatever, and you know what he said?”

He looks up so suddenly that it startles Kageyama again. His eyes are wide, glimmering, dark and intense. The bedside light casts half of his face golden, the other half in shadow. Hinata is locked in on him and Kageyama can’t look away.

Hinata breathes in and says, “He said he’s straight.” His expression softens, completely devoid of hate or malice, full of the look like he should have known all along. He blinks and looks down again.

Kageyama imagines Kuroo, done, with Hinata on top of him, reaching down into his pants pocket and pulling out a box of Newports. But instead of cigarettes it’s playing cards, and he pulls out the first in the deck and instead of a number it’s the H of spades, and he hands it over. And then Hinata, climbing off with tears welling in his eyes and finding his shorts as fast as he can at the same moment that Kageyama is walking away from the bushes around the house.

He says, because he can’t think of anything else, “Shou.”

“Wasn’t so straight when I was…” He stops and closes his eyes again and shakes his head. “What was I thinking.”

Kageyama finds words. Any words. Something. “Look, I’m really sorry. Like, he should have—or like…” He’s useless. He just stops and shakes his head too.

Hinata shrugs one shoulder. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs it again. “That was my first.”

It’s a hard shove from Kuroo straight to Kageyama’s chest. But he tells himself again that it’s not about him. He doesn’t mean to say it, but it comes out casually, another standard reaction: “Oh. Shit.”

Hinata laughs once. “I know. I don’t know why I just told you that.”

“He didn’t hurt you, did he? Or pressure you?”

“No. No, it—” Hinata sighs, looks at Kageyama with those eyes of his and then down again. “It was fine.”

Kageyama tilts his head a bit. “Okay. Cause if he did, I could probably sic Akaashi on him.”

Hinata smiles a little. It makes Kageyama feel a lot better. “He didn’t,” Hinata says. “I finally made a point of it and he finally let it out and offered, and…” He raises a palm up at the ceiling and then drops it again. “Nothing forced me to get into that van. And now I just…I feel so stupid. I’m so embarrassed.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“I am.”

“But you shouldn’t be,” Kageyama says. “He shouldn’t have done that. Taken advantage of you.”

Hinata laughs again and looks sideways. “I wanted it. Just not…”

“Not that. After.” Hinata nods at him, and Kageyama messes with the comforter. “It was really wrong. His head is…somewhere else.”

“But he’s like that,” Hinata says quietly. He looks at Kageyama again, right in his eyes, really brave. “You warned me and I didn’t care. I’m sorry.”

Kageyama makes a face. “Uh, for what? You have free will, and it’s not like anything makes it, like, makes you deserve anything.”

Hinata nods, playing with his nails. “Yeah. I didn’t really deserve that, but that’s what I get for,” he shrugs, “going stupid over a crush.”

Kageyama can’t help a bit of a grin. It feels a little better in the room now, and in his chest. _You don’t even know what you deserve, Shou,_ he thinks. _Let me tell you._

He looks into Hinata’s eyes, sending himself past the lashes and down into each pool and lets himself float there. He says, “You deserve better. A lot better.”

Hinata smiles at him. “Thanks.” He tucks his knees to his chest and hugs them. “I’ll get over it.” He nods at Kageyama like he wants to be sure he knows that, or maybe Kageyama is imagining things.

He just smiles. “Good. It shouldn’t be like that for anyone, and…I’m sorry that it was for you. I know you can’t pretend like it didn’t happen, but just, like, screw it, you know?” Hinata smiles and puts his chin on his knees. “You can do way better than _that_ guy,” Kageyama says.

It gets another laugh—one more small accomplishment. “Oh yeah?” Hinata asks.

Kageyama nods. “Definitely.”

Hinata hugs his knees tighter. “Thanks, Tobio. For listening, too.”

There’s a long pause again. This time, the silence feels okay.

“Also, ‘Transatlanticism’ is a really great song, by the way,” Kageyama says. “Makes me wish we had a guitarist.”

Hinata snorts and nudges him. “Let me wallow a little more before I sleep, okay? I’m tired.”

“All right.” Kageyama chuckles, gets up from the bed, and just looks at him for a moment longer. “See you in the morning?”

Hinata smiles up at him. “Yeah. Good night.”

“Night, Shou.”

He closes the door quietly, almost soundless. He stands in the hallway and closes his eyes, curls his hands into easy fists, and pulls them towards his chest. He opens his eyes and relaxes.

In his room, in his bed, he thinks about morning and dreams about handing Hinata the ace of hearts.


	14. Dramatic Irony

_MONDAY_

* * *

**_Shou [tangerine]_** : _It’s like,, FINALLY!!_

**_Shou [tangerine]_** : _And now, the last Monday of the semester: complete_

Kageyama smiles at his phone screen, the way Hinata emotes and almost always double texts. His messaging mannerisms are cute, and Kageyama reads every one of them in his voice.

Things feel different with Hinata since Saturday night. After everything that happened, the way they talk to each other is still the same, which is more relieving than he can say. And on top of that, something feels better—like it’s been released. He can’t pin it down, and maybe it’s just the fact that Hinata doesn’t dwell on things for too long, but either way, things are pretty good right now.

**_Kageyama_ ** _: finally lol i’m gonna study physics later- try and ace the final next week. you?_

**_Shou [tangerine]_ ** _: Same but for pharmacology intro. That’ll be my worst one :/_

**_Kageyama_ ** _: nah you got it. essay questions?_

**_Shou [tangerine]_ ** _: F I V E_

**_Shou [tangerine]_ ** _: Want to study tomorrow, maybe evening? I’m hanging with TnT after class but then I think they’re going to Chipotle or something_

For a second, Kageyama looks up at nothing and smiles. Things are very good, he thinks, and very normal. He just has to not let his mind start running away with it.

At this point, he’s hoping that Kuroo is out of the picture. Yesterday morning was awkward as hell, trying to maneuver around the house in Roseneau and pack things into the cars with everyone but Suga aware of what happened the night before ( _Pulled the hetero card,_ Kageyama told Akaashi when he asked, and Akaashi said, _Big surprise_ ) and Kuroo either unaware of or disinterested in the fact that Hinata had a breakdown over it. Hinata kept his eyes low, hugging that backpack close to himself, and Kageyama was nervous about it, but Hinata smiled at him anyway before they all started driving home. He probably had a long talk with Yamaguchi in the car, and he seems back to normal now that they’re back to Normal. Maybe he mentioned Kageyama and the talk they had. Maybe he said nice things.

_That’s you running away with it, Tobio._

**_Kageyama_ ** _: yeah, just tell me when_

Akaashi’s bike is leaning up against the porch. The van isn’t parked on the street which means Kuroo isn’t here right now. Darn.

**_Shou [tangerine]_ ** _: I will. My dorm? I’ll get snacks?_

What a keeper.

**_Kageyama_ ** _: i’m begging you_

Hinata sends him two laughing crying emojis just as he starts up the steps of the house. He slips on one and comes really close to scraping his leg, and it makes him think about Bokuto’s ankle that’s still bandaged and that he opened in the middle of the ride home yesterday by moving around too much. Akaashi ended up switching seats with Kageyama so he could be next to Bokuto and keep him in check, and that freaked Kageyama out more than it should have. He looks at the emojis again to stop thinking about it, but the imagined idea of Bokuto laughing and sobbing at the same time overwhelms him. It seems too familiar.

Too many things at once. When he puts his phone away and goes into the house, Bokuto will be home from work, sitting on his bed nested in blankets and reading about Algonquian folklore, and the purple Ziploc will be in the trash and everything will be fine.

He takes his earbuds out as he steps through the door, and it’s oddly quiet—as if nobody is here, but the door was unlocked. “You here, dude?” Kageyama calls out, wrapping his earbuds and shoving them in his backpack.

“Which dude?” Akaashi calls back from the living room.

When he passes by Bokuto’s room, it’s empty, stray beads still scattered on the floor. When he turns into the living room, Suga is there too. They’re just sitting on the couch, Suga with his good posture and Akaashi reclined crisscross into the corner, phone in hand.

Kageyama pauses in the threshold. “No Bo?”

Akaashi shrugs. “He took a midday shift. Work probably…” he shrugs again like he doesn’t believe a word he’s saying, “went late.”

Yeah. Work. Bokuto is still laughing and crying in his head. He can’t keep this a secret for much longer. Maybe if he just talked to Akaashi about it.

“Right.” He nods, looks at Suga. “What’s up?”

Suga smiles at him. “I was working on a demo for something Kuroo is writing—mostly just bassline and lyric melody right now. He’s considering naming it ‘Learned Helplessness’ I think.”

“Cheery.”

“That’s us,” Akaashi says.

Suga chuckles. “He left for the store like twenty minutes ago. He’ll be back soon, and I guess Mattsun from classes. I was headed home but Keiji, uh.” He looks around. “Actually, come sit for a sec.”

Oh no. Maybe he’s too late. Kageyama walks over, cautious. “Okay.” He gets Bokuto’s drumkit stool, two dents in the cushion where his ischia have dug in for almost seven years, and drags it over to sit across from them. “Uh.”

Suga chuckles again but it sounds a little forced. “I’d say don’t be so nervous, but…” He looks at Akaashi. “I guess you have a right.”

Akaashi looks at his phone.

“What is it?” Kageyama asks. Now that it seems imminent, he’s scared to talk about it.

Akaashi sighs and says, “In Roseneau, there was this A and R guy, Ukai Keishin. From Atlanta.”

What? That’s…not what he was expecting. It makes him sit up more. “Whoa, what?”

“We’ve been offered a signing,” Suga tells him.

Kageyama’s mouth opens. “Wh—like…”

“‘Your style is reminiscent of throwback alt-punk,’” Akaashi reads from his phone, “‘with a bassist like an early two-thousands Nick O’Malley and a drummer like a young Tré Cool, but with upbeat pop overlays, a synth player with enough skill to match studio-produced electro-pop if Chopin wasn’t so pleasantly in the way, and a vocalist born for modern alternative.’”

Kageyama looks at Suga, and Suga smiles and looks down.

“Lots of compliments on the lyrics and style, the composition,” Akaashi says. “‘The new alternative and indie culture being brought about by young artists across the country…’ And he’s excited to work with first- and second-gen Japanese members.” He stops, lets his phone rest on his leg and looks at Kageyama. “This guy is offering a four-year contract, a record deal, and is looking at a full national tour opening position starting this fall. And he has a spot for us in Atlanta in three weeks, opening for one of their rock bands at the Cellairis Amphitheatre.”

“Jesus,” Kageyama says. “Like, an actual venue?”

“Consider us discovered,” Suga says, but he’s still looking down and he isn’t smiling anymore.

Kageyama pauses to think. “That’s.” He blinks. “Why does this feel weird.”

“We wanted your opinion on it,” Suga says.

Kageyama makes a noncommittal, uncomfortable face. “I mean, it’s awesome. This is a huge opportunity, right?” He looks back and forth between them. They just look at him with these straight faces that don’t answer the question. “Why ask me, though?” he says. “I just take pictures.”

“He found our Instagram,” Akaashi says, “and chose to offer this to us over another band because of all the videos you took, where he could see all of our songs and how the guys usually perform. He liked _your_ account, and he messaged _my_ business email—same one I always use.”

“We’re asking you because he’s offering to everyone,” Suga says.

“We’re cheap,” Akaashi says simply. “They wouldn’t have to hire a tour photographer for social. And if we fail, that’s on us.” He stops like that’s all that needs to be said.

Kageyama can’t tell what the right answer is supposed to be. “I mean…” He shrugs slowly. “I’m down for whatever. Getting famous, or whatever.” He shrugs again. College is cool; being in music would be cool. Taking tour photos would not be a difficult job and they’d get to travel and play the music they love. It would be good, right? Isn’t this, like, the plan or the hope, or…?

He has the sudden realization that he’s never really thought about this. Maybe none of them have.

Suga just nods. Akaashi looks at his phone.

“I don’t know what to say,” Kageyama admits. “I mean, I don’t have, like…” His voice comes out quiet, one note. “Life plans.”

Suga nods again. “That’s a big part of it.”

Right. There are six of them, and just because Kageyama has no solid goals or aspirations doesn’t mean the rest of them don’t either “What did the others say?”

“You’re the first one we asked,” Akaashi says. “We weren’t sure of your answer.”

“Everyone else, we have good guesses for,” Suga says.

Kageyama slumps on the stool. “What about you guys?”

Akaashi waves his phone. “I mean, it’s my major, so my decision is dependent on the group’s. If it’s a yes—yes. If not.” He shrugs again.

“My guess is that Issei is in the same place as me,” Suga says. “I mean, I’m…” His head falls sideways a little, and his hair sways across his forehead. “Graduating in two weeks, and I’ve already sent applications to some grad schools. Issei has his parents. But…” He shrugs, and he’s wearing a T-shirt with a pocket and worn washed jeans and a pair of Converse, and right now he looks exactly like a student. It reminds Kageyama that Suga is only twenty-two and so is Kuroo, and Mattsun and Akaashi are twenty-one, Bokuto in June, and he himself is only nineteen. Are they cut out for it?

Suga says, “Maybe, you know? I really have to think about it.”

Kageyama nods. “You think Bo would be a yes?”

Suga looks at him, but then looks at Akaashi. A small, weak lightbulb turns on in Kageyama’s head.

“Yeah, but it’s not up to him right now,” Akaashi says flatly. Kageyama feels a pain in his chest. “Besides,” Akaashi says, “what about number six?”

“If we say no? He’ll kill us.” Suga runs his hand through his hair, platinum strands framing his cheekbones when they fall back. “He’ll kill me.”

Kageyama swallows.

“It will take time to consider. And there are some things that need to be dealt with,” Suga adds. “Currently.”

The lightbulb brightens.

Okay. Today. Kageyama _has_ to say it. If he can just work up the courage.

“So.” Suga draws in a long breath and sits up straight again. “He wants an answer by Monday, so we have a week to think. Kuroo does not find out about this until it’s my go. Sorry, I’m going to take some executive control on this.”

Akaashi says got it and Kageyama stammers out no, yeah, it’s fine, yeah.

Suga nods again like that’s that. “I’ll talk to Issei and Bokuto individually.” He meets Kageyama’s eyes. “Thanks, Tobio. I’ll let you guys know if…what it comes to. Tell Ukai we really appreciate it and we’re going to take a few days.”

Akaashi scrolls to reply to the email.

There’s a pause. The A/C shuts off and Kageyama feels like his body is instantly hotter. Things are building up in his psyche, his conscience, and his throat. Any best friend confidentiality privilege that Bokuto might have previously had is now outweighed by caring and fear. The moral obligation leans a lot more toward saying something and helping him than not.

_Just say it. If you don’t now, you won’t ever. Do something. Make a choice._

“Akaashi, can I talk to you about something?” He watches Akaashi’s thumbs stop typing, save the draft, shut his screen off. “I mean. Um.”

“Is it about Bokuto?” Suga asks gently.

The lightbulb surges and pops. Kageyama swallows. “You know.” He looks into Suga’s eyes.

“Even if I couldn’t guess, he’d still be…acting the way he is lately.” Suga looks off to the side. “It’s not hard. He’s been using Adderall for a long time—those orange ones. Not white. I suppose one thing leads to the next.” He looks back at them. “We all know something is up.”

“Has he told you guys?” Kageyama asks.

Suga almost scoffs. “He hasn’t _told_ any of us.”

“Except you,” Akaashi says. It punches Kageyama in the gut, but Akaashi just gives him a look that’s not angry, mostly just tired, and that says _Come on, Tobio._ “Of course he told you.”

Kageyama says, “Yeah.”

“He’s been shaking all the time,” Suga says. “Hurting himself and barely noticing, definitely not caring. He gets hyper-concentrated and he grinds his teeth a lot.”

“Even in his sleep,” Akaashi says. He puts his phone away in his pocket. “He’s always thirsty, up and down constantly, and he sucks at hiding his pills. He’s tweaking out worse than before, and it’s been longer than I thought. But it took me a while to realize he could be taking something else.” He lands a gaze on Kageyama. Sharp and serious, it’s hard for Kageyama to hold. “Tell me you know what it is,” Akaashi says.

Under any other circumstance, Kageyama might say that it’s no big deal, it’s just a club drug, it could be worse. If Bokuto did it once or twice a week, maybe that would be okay. But Suga said it—he using. It’s not a hobby and it’s not for fun. How long has he actually been taking it? _Why?_

He says, “It’s ecstasy.”

Suga closes his eyes and pushes his hair back again.

“I thought so,” Akaashi says. “He’s all over me, more than usual, but _only_ when he’s high. When he’s down—you saw in Roseneau.” He motions at Kageyama.

_Then and plenty of other times_. “Yeah. I noticed.”

Suga falls against the back of the couch with his arms across his chest. He says in a whisper, “Bo.”

Akaashi shakes his head. “I guess I’m glad it’s not even worse. I thought maybe it was coke, but then I saw the pills.” He sniffs. His cheeks are a little red. “But I guess for him it doesn’t matter.”

It’s just as bad, Kageyama figures. Bokuto is susceptible and reactive and it doesn’t matter.

“He told me because we’ve known each other so long,” he says quickly, too loud. They look at him and he swallows again. “My judgement—it doesn’t scare him. I think he wants your respect, Suga, and Akaashi—he doesn’t want you to, like…” He trails off. He can’t say it.

“I know,” Akaashi says. “It’s fine.”

He’s not mad—he’s hurt.

_Wow. This sucks._

Suga stands up suddenly. He keeps one arm crossed, touches his mouth with the other hand, and says, “So what, then.”

Kageyama wishes he knew the answer to anything.

“We’ll have to intervene somehow,” Akaashi says, but even he doesn’t sound sure. He’s not indestructible. Pieces of his strong exterior are cracking now that he knows everything. It would be stupid to think that Akaashi isn’t just as scared as the rest of them. His fingers are wrapped around his thumb, squeezing, turning whitish, and something about it seems angry at things that are intangible to him.

_Ah. I see_ , Kageyama thinks. _This is what Akaashi is like when he’s terrified._

“Something,” Suga says.

Before Kageyama can feel worse for not saying anything helpful, the front door opens with the sound of keys jingling. Kuroo is back. Nobody has to say out loud that they’re done talking about it.

“He knows,” Suga says, hushed, to Kageyama. “He told me Bokuto is late on his rent this month.”

And if Bokuto is late on rent, then Mattsun is aware of it all too.

Kageyama barely opens his mouth. “Got it.”

“Back, Kuroo?” Suga calls, walking toward the hallway.

“Still here?” Kuroo calls back.

“Yeah. Tobio’s here too. Still no Bokuto or Issei.”

Footsteps approach from the hallway and Suga turns so Kuroo can lean against the threshold. “Yeah, just FYI, Mattsun messaged. Anxiety attack over in the econ building.”

“Oh god,” Akaashi says.

Suga reacts intensely with his eyes, like all of this is piling onto itself at once. Kageyama gets it, but it’s even worse than just this because Suga doesn’t know about what happened in Roseneau in the van. Maybe he never will and maybe that’s better.

Suga brushes his hair back again. “Does—does he need one of us to go over there?”

Kuroo crosses his arms, shaking his head. “He says he’ll be good. He’s talking to his guy.”

Kageyama sighs in relief. They don’t know Makki very closely yet, but he can tell that he made no mistake in passing along his original message.

“I thought Bokuto’s shift ended an hour ago,” Kuroo says.

“So did I.” Akaashi takes his phone out again.

“Well.” Kuroo reaches into his pocket—Newports, lighter. “He was turning the corner when I pulled up.” He puts one in his lips and flicks the lighter on. When he exhales, he says, “And there was this navy Porsche that came from the same direction and turned the other way.”

Akaashi meets his eyes.

The door opens again. The four of them listen to footsteps coming in, pausing, the door closing, some rustling sounds. It’s all so obvious that it hurts Kageyama’s whole body. He wonders where Bokuto is hiding them, if his pockets are good enough or if he has to tuck them somewhere else until he can get in his room. How many he has now. How much he just spent.

Bokuto walks down the hall and comes to the doorway, grinning. The circles under his eyes are so bad they look almost fake but he probably barely sees them, stage makeup, dramatic irony, and now he’s laughing and crying and the hi-hat is rattling somewhere in the background.

“Welcome back,” Suga says, and it might be the meanest thing to come out of his mouth that Kageyama has ever heard. Now he knows what Suga is like when he’s terrified.

Bokuto laughs, a wheeze. “Sorry. Sorry, Kaashi. And Tobe.” He nods at them. “Work, uh, ran pretty late.”

_I’m sorry you have to lie, Bo. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened to you._

“Overtime pay?” Kuroo asks.

Bokuto is trembling, holding onto the wall. He laughs again. “Yeah, hopefully.”

Kageyama imagines a big two-story house, newly built, made of stones and big windows, a night blue Porsche Cayman pulling into a driveway, a two-car automatic garage. In his head, he hears Kuroo saying _Restock_.

Bokuto is smiling but his eyes are freaking out. He probably just took one and it hasn’t hit him yet. “I’m gonna, like, change my clothes,” he says, hooking a thumb at his room. Nobody says anything so he turns to go.

Next to Kageyama, Suga mutters, “Something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Bo’s birthday isn’t in June…roll with me. He makes a great Gemini.


	15. Go Stupid

_TUESDAY_

* * *

Kageyama walks to the east side of campus for Hinata’s dorm hall with his backpack full. It was probably a mistake for him to bring every notebook for every class for a twenty-five-minute walk both ways, but he intends on staying in that dorm room for as much time as fate will let him. As long as the surprise he has doesn’t get squished under his school stuff, it’ll be fine.

His phone chimes again.

**_Bo_ ** _: ok when?_

It’s not like he wants to deal with it. If he could just turn away from Bokuto’s issues and pretend none of it is happening like he does during arguments, he would. But he cares—he’s known this guy for over a decade. He needs time alone with Bokuto—and not just in his room, but out of the house with nobody else around. And he needs to work up the courage to do something, say something. Anything. He’s tired of carrying it.

**_Kageyama_ ** _: youre doing ads thursday night right? i’ll come with_

They’re putting the ribbons up a night early since Bokuto works Friday night. Every time he has to go back to that restaurant—back to the coworkers who rag on him for nothing, to Daishou and what he has—it freaks Kageyama out a little bit more. He wants to trust Bokuto, have faith in his best friend, but Bokuto isn’t trustworthy anymore. A little bit more of him moves onto some other distant plane every time he takes another pill.

**_Kageyama_ ** _: cool?_

**_Bo_ ** _: yeah that’ll be cool_

_Good. Maybe you won’t hurt yourself if I’m there too._

And now he tries not to think about it until then. He starts to tuck his phone back in his pocket but he gets another text.

**_Bo_ ** _: will you walk with me on friday again? i wanna go early but i’m still closing so like 830_

_No, Bo. I don’t want to walk with you and see your dealer and his stupid car. I don’t want to feel responsible for leaving you there._

He considers not answering. He’s afraid to.

**_Kageyama_ ** _: sure dude_

_Anything for you._

Bokuto sends him the kissing face emoji and Kageyama closes out of his texts. He takes a breath, trying to exhale with it the anxiety over events days from now. It doesn’t work very well, so he just keeps walking.

He’s about ten minutes away when someone taps him on the shoulder and scares him. He flinches and turns to see Yamaguchi smiling, and almost flinches again when Tsukishima is there too, looking at him in that _Try me_ way. “Oh. Guys. Hey.”

“Didn’t mean to freak you out,” Yamaguchi says. “We just saw you going by.”

“Oh, yeah.” He nods at Tsukishima. “Hey. It’s been a while.”

“Hey,” Tsukishima says.

A response. Nice.

“You guys headed to Chipotle?” he asks, giving everything away.

Tsukishima raises an eyebrow. “Right, you’re seeing Hinata tonight, aren’t you.”

Kageyama moves his shoulders awkwardly. “Yeah. Hanging out.”

Tsukishima narrows his eyes behind his glasses, and all at once it hits Kageyama that he probably knows all about Roseneau. He definitely knows about Kageyama’s crush if Yamaguchi knew that easily. Kageyama can see the calculations going through his head of Kageyama’s intentions after Kuroo’s exit stage right, of the point of tonight which really is just studying besides just being in Hinata’s presence, but Tsukishima doesn’t know that. And there are a lot of things Kageyama doesn’t know either—what Hinata said about the weekend, what Yamaguchi and Tsukishima have talked about regarding him. Hopefully Yamaguchi put in a good word.

“So, uh. Yeah,” he says to fill in the pause.

Tsukishima sighs and says, “Listen, he told us that you came and talked to him after what happened over the weekend. That night.”

Kageyama tenses a little, waiting. “Yeah. He explained stuff to me.”

“Yeah, well. He said that you were really nice to him about it and that it helped calm him down a lot.”

“That he would have just kept crying if someone hadn’t gone in and talked to him,” Yamaguchi says, looking right into Kageyama’s eyes.

Wait. Did Yamaguchi _not_ go talk to Hinata…on purpose?

Kageyama blinks. “That’s—I mean, I’m glad he felt okay.”

Yamaguchi just smiles at him and Kageyama is pretty sure his assumption is true. Yamaguchi Tadashi, wingman of the millennium.

Tsukishima says, “Just wanted to say that I thought that was really nice of you. You didn’t have to, so.”

“That’s the highest of compliments,” Yamaguchi assures him.

Kageyama shrugs nonchalantly, even though this feels like a major achievement. “I would want to talk if something like that happened to me, you know? I mean, he’s,” _Don’t run your mouth, Tobio_ , “important to me.”

Yamaguchi smiles again, and this time, finally, so does Tsukishima. It’s no Tadashi super-grin but it’s something, a small curve at one corner of his mouth. So he really does have a heart.

“Do you get it now?” Yamaguchi asks him.

Tsukishima sighs again and adjusts his glasses. “Yeah, I guess so.” He lands a still skeptical but appreciative gaze on Kageyama. “Good luck, then. We’re going to get dinner. Come on, Tadashi.” They start walking, but Tsukishima looks over his shoulder and says, “And by the way, your bass player’s an asshole.”

Kageyama snorts. “Tell me about it.”

“But we’re glad you’re not,” Yamaguchi says. “See you.”

“See you guys.”

He turns away so they won’t see him pull a quick fist pump, then continues on.

He watches the sky while he waits outside for Hinata to come let him in the building. The sun is starting down, golden hour, and it’s at his back which means Hinata will be facing it when he opens the door. He steps to the side a little so there’s no shadow and braces himself for it.

In twenty seconds, Hinata pushes through the stairwell door inside and smiles at him through the glass. His hands are behind his back. He takes one out to open the entrance from the inside, and when he’s there in the threshold the sun lights his eyes on fire and they’re polished bronze, and his hair is a freshly-washed burst of flames, and his skin tone would make Instagram models jealous, and Kageyama brings a hand up to push through his own hair because it’s the only reaction that won’t get him in trouble. He says, “Hey,” and it comes out more like a sigh, but what can he do.

“Guess what?” Hinata brings the other hand out from behind his back. “Boom.” It’s a bag of pizza flavored Goldfish that he props in his palm. “Told you I’d come through with the snacks. There’s more than just this, but I wanted to make a show of it since, you know, it’s our thing.” He shrugs and smiles.

_That’s enough. Just stop it. What else are you going to do to me, Shou?_

Kageyama keeps his composure and clears his throat. He says nothing while he swings his backpack off his shoulder, opens the zipper, and pulls out another bag of pizza flavored Goldfish. He looks up and says, “Boom?”

Hinata’s eyes get bigger. “Wait, what? That’s kind of, like—”

“Cosmic?” Kageyama offers.

Hinata nods. “Seriously.”

Kageyama just looks at him, dazed.

Hinata smiles brightly in the sun and waves him in to the cool air of the dorm hall. “Come on, let’s go up. I’ve also got like, PB and J if you want, ramen, uni stuff. Bananas.”

Kageyama starts following him up the stairwell. Hinata is wearing cuffed red corduroy shorts and the lines of the fabric are catching light and shadows too perfectly. He’s really glad Hinata has to lead the way. “Yeah, bananas,” he says.

Hinata looks at him over his shoulder again, shakes his head, keeps climbing. “Third floor, Major Tom.”

“Is Tsukishima coming back after dinner?” Kageyama asks.

Hinata’s dorm room is a classic: two beds and desks, a shared bathroom with the next room over, food and stuff stashed under the beds. Tsukishima has a poster on his wall of the Arctic Monkeys’ _Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino_ cover that Kageyama admires for a second. He also has the same bedsheets as him, some Amazon set but grey instead of navy. Hinata has a cute comforter—puffy, light blue.

“Cool room,” he adds.

Hinata turns and rolls his eyes. “Being in a dorm sucks. There’s no space in this place. Just anywhere,” he says, waving a hand when Kageyama holds up his backpack asking where to put it. “And why? You still afraid of him?”

Kageyama laughs and drops his backpack in the middle of the floor, still holding the Goldfish in his hand. “Uh, yeah. He’s like, really put together and it’s intimidating.”

Hinata comes over to him and kicks off his orange-laced shoes. “Is he intimidating or are you intimidated?” He laughs when Kageyama lets it sink in. “He’d be happy to hear that anyway. But don’t let him fool you—I think he thinks you’re cool.” He smiles. “And he’s staying at Tadashi’s. They’re going early to the beach tomorrow morning.” He sits down crisscross on the floor and motions.

Kageyama looks down at him, his big eyes locked in. “Oh, gotcha.” He joins on the trampled carpeting incomparable to Yamaguchi’s flat, just like in his own dorm but with Hinata in front of him. “Nice. So, I’m just gonna.” He rips off the entire top of his Goldfish bag instead of unrolling it. Hinata lifts an eyebrow so he says, “I guarantee this is getting finished in ten minutes.”

Hinata nods slowly, clearly flashing back to takeout night in Roseneau. “Right. So, you think you’re ready for finals next week?”

Kageyama shoves his hand in the bag. “I mean, I’d probably pass at this point, like, from going to classes and doing work over the semester. But I probably should still study. You said you have two, right?” He dumps the handful in his mouth and holds the bag out. “What days?”

Hinata takes the bag naturally—they’ve done this before. “Thankfully, two of my professors only did last tests and no final. One is Wednesday and one Thursday.” He takes a handful but drops them into his mouth one or two at a time like a civilized person.

“Same, but Tuesday and Thursday. Physics and arch history.”

“Stats and pharm,” Hinata sighs. “Not looking forward to it.”

“Test anxiety?”

Hinata shrugs. “More like just nervous in general. Like, I always have to pee a million times before I go in the room. I think my major is too smart for me.”

“No way.” Kageyama waves his hand. “You’re definitely smart. You and I—we just have trouble focusing sometimes,” he says, putting a finger to his head.

Hinata giggles. “Yeah, exactly. I can’t sit thinking about medians and modes for an hour straight—I have too much on my mind.”

_Yeah. I understand that feeling completely. So much is happening, Shou, you have no i—_

No—not right now. Tonight’s brain is for Hinata, not Bokuto or anyone else.

“Exactly,” he says back.

Hinata smiles. Then he looks at the floor between them, shifts his legs a little and says, “By the way, I just wanted to apologize again for what happened over the weekend. It was really just…stupid.”

Kageyama shakes his head. “No, seriously. It’s not like you’re the one who should be apologizing.”

Hinata sighs again. “Thanks. And thanks again for coming to talk to me. After I was kind of mean to you.” He looks into Kageyama’s eyes. “It meant a lot. You didn’t have to.”

_I wanted to. For you to feel better. You’re important._

“Of course.”

It gets another smile. “Yeah. It’s not, like, weird now, is it?” Hinata scrunches his nose.

“Who?” He almost says Kuroo’s name, but doesn’t want to. “Him?” Honestly, it seems like it was just another weekend for Kuroo. No different from any phone number he pulls at a Saturday show. No different from any girl.

“No, I mean.” Hinata waves a hand back and forth between them. “Like. Between us.”

Kageyama’s heart jumps. “Oh. Actually, I thought it was…better. Not sure how, but.”

“Yeah. I agree,” Hinata says. Nice teeth, nice cheeks, nice skin. Those eyes.

Kageyama nods. “So.” He looks at the Goldfish on the front of the bag, afraid of the next question. “With Ku—him. Uh. Do you still…”

Hinata does a dramatic shiver, his hair trembling, and makes a face. “No, god. No.” He relaxes, laughs at himself. “I mean, I probably never should have liked him, but definitely since _that_ happened…” He widens his eyes at the floor. “No thanks.”

Kageyama almost laughs. If they had a dollar for every time one of them felt _no thanks_ about Kuroo. “No kidding.”

Hinata pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. “Does that make me a groupie now?”

Kageyama shrugs. “Nah. I think it doesn’t count.”

“Thank goodness.” Hinata chuckles once, then sighs. “What am I going to tell my parents? My sister.”

He has no idea how to answer that. He asks instead, “You have a sister?”

Hinata smiles. “Yeah, younger. I can’t remember if you told me you have siblings?”

Kageyama nods. “A sister back in Asheville. Miwa. She’s eight years older than me.” His eyebrows go up and he pours himself another handful. “And doesn’t let me forget it. What about yours?”

“Natsu just turned fourteen, but she acts like she’s at least sixteen.” Hinata laughs. “We’re really close, and since I moved here, I’ve missed her the most.” He puts his chin on his knees. His hair wiggles while he talks. “She bugs me about my love life even though she’s never had a real boyfriend. We always tell each other everything, but like…what am I supposed to tell her about this?”

Kageyama pauses, trying to figure out what to say. It must come across on his face because Hinata snorts and waves at him.

“Why are you as stressed as me?” he says. “I’ll figure it out. I’m a big boy.” Kageyama sighs in relief and Hinata leans back onto his hands. “You know, the boy she likes right now is kind of like you. Taller and super symmetrical, and she says he has a relaxed personality and a nice voice. And the same hair, except his is dark brown.”

He could ask a lot of things but instead he says, “Do I come off as relaxed?”

Hinata giggles again. “Very. Almost monotonously so.”

Kageyama feels his ears heat up, but Hinata nudges him to tell him he’s joking. “Well, don’t be fooled,” he says. “I’m only chill on the outside.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Hinata says. “School and all.” His head tilts down to one side.

The way he looks at Kageyama is too much. The way that piece of hair in the middle of his forehead sways over his brow.

_Focus, Tobio._

Anyway, if school and classes were what was freaking him out so much lately, life would be a lot easier. “Stressful stuff,” he says as monotonously as possible.

Hinata tilts his head to the other side. “Classes aren’t okay for you?”

Kageyama takes a breath.

_No, Shou, they’re fine. But we just got offered a record deal and it’s looking pretty grey right now with two neutrals, two probable yeses, and two probable no’s, and honestly Kuroo is going to lose his mind once he finds out which one it is, whatever that’ll be because it’s looking like it’s up to Suga. And speaking of Suga, he still doesn’t know about the whole Roseneau situation, and that’s making me nervous because he and Kuroo also have this weird thing which I think you picked up on a long time ago, and none of us are really sure, we honestly never have been because Kuroo is always so freaking straight, but since the Roseneau situation happened it threw us off, but like I said, Suga doesn’t know, so that’s a gigantic mess. Oh, and my best friend is addicted to amphetamines._

_But at least I don’t have to worry about_ you _as much anymore. At least I get to be here._

“Uh.” He swallows. “It’s fine.”

Hinata just looks at him for a second. “Okay. Do you want to elaborate on whatever you’re omitting?”

Right. So neuro majors can read minds. “Yeah, uh.” He clears his throat again. His mouth is dry and the crackers really help. “School is fine but, um. So. This guy from Atlanta asked us if we wanted to make a record and maybe do a tour.”

Hinata blinks and sits up. “Whoa, what?”

“That’s what I said. Long story short, it’s looking like mixed reviews from the guys, and in the end, Suga is the leader, so.”

Hinata blinks some more, taking it in. “Well…what do you think?”

Kageyama shrugs, but it feels like lifting a weight. “I mean, I’m the least important when it comes to that decision. I love taking pictures and being with the guys—they’re my best friends, I love the music. But…life happens and stuff, and I totally see where Suga’s at. Mattsun, too. I’m fine either way.”

Hinata smiles a little. “I bet you are. You’re like a neutral-neutral.”

Yeah, and it’s really screwing with him lately. “Which sucks sometimes cause, like—it’s because I can never decide on anything. It’s easier to just go with it, but I always,” he motions absently with his arms, “do nothing.”

“Yeah.” Hinata’s voice comes out soft. “I can see that, too.”

“Like.” He lifts a hand and lets it fall like it always does. “I had no idea what major I wanted, just picked architecture because it sounded cool. But some decisions aren’t like that. You have to choose. Like, this is really heavy.”

Hinata chuckles and says in this calm voice that makes Kageyama look at him again, “Going to Atlanta would be a big change.”

It pulls Kageyama back in and makes him relax, slumping over to put his elbows on his knees. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Maybe you don’t freak out out loud enough.”

Kageyama runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t mean to dump my problems on you.”

“You’re not,” Hinata says. “Sometimes you just need to work it out by telling someone who isn’t in it.” He smiles and nudges Kageyama with his socked foot. “I’m just someone who can listen.”

_You’re more, Shou. It’s better. Being here with you._

“Oh. Well. Thank you,” he gets out. “They’re offering us a show in Atlanta, too, in three weeks after term’s out. It’s a one-time thing I think, like, we tack it on if we want, or…I don’t know. It’s all up in the air. We have some serious things to deal with right now, anyway.” He’s intending on taking a second so he can hear Hinata say something else, or maybe just shutting up entirely, but instead his mouth opens again and he spills. “Bo’s messed up.”

Hinata pulls his knees up again, propping his forearms on them. “What happened?”

Is it wrong to talk about it with Hinata? Maybe. Is he going to?

What else?

“Um…drugs.”

Hinata’s brows go up a little. “Like.” He blinks. “Do you mean—bad?”

“That’s the thing.” Kageyama rubs a finger on one of his legs, scratching at his joggers. “I don’t know. Do you know about ecstasy?”

Hinata nods. “Like, raving.”

“Partying, right? Bokuto doesn’t, besides playing onstage. He’s—” He stops and pulls his thoughts together. If this is going to make any sense, he’ll have to back up. “Okay. He’s been taking Adderall to focus and work better and stuff, to get out of his head, for a long time. Like, for almost two years since we moved here and he got his job.” He puts put toward Hinata and it’s shaking a little. It reminds him of what they’re already talking about, of Bokuto’s body trembling. “You’re neurobio,” he says. “You know about tolerance.”

Hinata nods slowly. “Got it.”

“Right. So like, Bo says that it wasn’t working anymore, right, and so he has this coworker and he’s been giving Bo ecstasy because it’s like a step up—more of a stimulant—and I guess Bo likes that kind of thing because like I said before, he’s a total whackjob, and he’s still him but it’s not _him_ anymore and like, I don’t know what to do about it because it’s not like he’s smoking crack or shooting heroin or something, but it’s definitely not Adderall anymore. I don’t even know how much he’s taking, but when he’s up he’s way up and when he’s down it’s like he’s melting, and he shakes and he’s lost a lot of weight, and he could have broken his ankle back in Roseneau—you saw—but he doesn’t even notice and I think he probably burned himself on the roof once, and he’s late on his rent and he has to work with that total prick who’s dealing to him, and he’s always been a susceptible guy since his parents fucking _died_.”

He’s talking too fast. Saying way too much. But it’s too late now.

Hinata waits for him to breathe for a second.

Kageyama stops. Closes his mouth. “Jesus. I’m sorry.”

“Is this the coworker from before?” Hinata asks. “Daishou, right?”

The floor seems like the best place to look. “Yeah.”

“From the restaurant?”

“Yeah. He gets the pills from,” he laughs once, “Atlanta, or something. And then deals them out.”

Hinata nods. “All right. What happened to Bokuto’s parents?”

Kageyama sighs heavily, pushing back his hair for it to fall in his face again. “They got in a wreck about three years ago. They were never rich, so. He didn’t get left a lot. No house. No life insurance.” He shakes his head once. “He had just turned eighteen.”

Hinata nods again. “I’m sorry that happened. I know he’s your best friend since forever. Is he, I mean—is he depressed?”

Kageyama’s throat starts to tighten. But he’s not a crier, and he’s not going to cry in front of Hinata, and he’s not going to cry over this at all because if he does then that means it’s real. He swallows, shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “I guess so. He’s happy when he’s with us usually. Since the band started, he’s been doing good. Since he got with Akaashi. But, I guess deep down…”

“So then…is he getting worse? Like, is that what’s wrong?”

“Yeah, he is.” He rubs his face. “I don’t know what to do. It’s building up, and I’m waiting for one of us to finally just confront him. I feel like it shouldn’t be me but it should be me but it should be Akaashi because he’s his boyfriend or Suga because he’s the leader or Mattsun because he knows anxiety or Kuroo because he won’t sugarcoat it or me because I’m his best friend. Like.” He blinks.

Hinata nods. “It must be really…a tough choice.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “And I just. I feel like something’s gonna happen. Like it’s looming. A fight. He’s going to cry.” He sniffs. “I’m talking to him alone on Thursday. Or I’m gonna try to.”

Another nod, gentle. “That’s good. Maybe you can express everyone’s concerns then.”

Yeah, maybe, but it’s freaking him out—actually petrifying him to think about it. “Yeah.”

Hinata takes a deep breath and goes crisscross again. “I watched this video once. This researcher was talking about addiction, and he said something about not handling being present in your life. And kind of getting out of it a bit. Like, not _gone_ gone but like, not all _there_ , you know?” He shrugs. “Maybe Bokuto is just missing things.”

When it happened almost three years ago, Bokuto had to figure things out as a new adult with no help but a teenaged Kageyama and his family. He got jobs, got an apartment, moved here with Kageyama when dual enrolling came around, got another job, met all of them. Got started on Adderall because it helped him do more and because it was there, but he also got better. It felt like life worked out up until now. But Bokuto has never actually _dealt_ with it. With anything.

All at once, Kageyama groans and tips backwards, and just as Hinata is telling him to watch out, he hits his head on Tsukishima’s bedframe. It makes a metal _clang_ against his skull, and he groans more and rolls sideways onto the floor. Hinata is trying not to laugh at him but he is anyway, and Kageyama holds his head and tries not to laugh too because it feels really wrong right now. But maybe it’s okay.

“Everything sucks, Shou,” he laughs out, muffled under his arms.

Hinata holds in giggles, tugging at the leg of his joggers. “Are—are you okay?”

Kageyama heaves out a sigh and flops his arms down, staring up at the ceiling. “Peachy.” He props up onto his elbows. Hinata is looking at him, lips pressed together but curled up at the corners, eyes shiny under artificial light, and he flicks his head to get his comma out of his eyes. Kageyama says, “Change the subject. Something happy.”

Hinata gives him this soft grin that pushes some weight off of Kageyama’s chest for a while. “All right.” He reaches for his backpack. “Wanna start stud—”

“Happy, not anxiety-inducing.”

Hinata snorts and turns back to him. He thinks for a second, then scoots back and relaxes against the side of his bed. “Okay. I have a question, but it might also be sort of anxiety-inducing. But I think it’s still a good subject.”

It can’t be worse than talking about life or studying. Kageyama tilts his chin up, still on his elbows. “Hit me.”

Hinata crosses his arms. “You have a crush on _me,_ right?”

It feels like a Nerf dart landing right in the middle of his forehead. He plays it cool. “What makes you say that?”

A tilt of the head. “You’re different with me than other people. Like, how you are with your friends, or with Tadashi and Tsukishima. And you stare at my butt all the time.”

A second dart, quick draw. He blinks. “I thought I was being subtle.”

Hinata lets his eyes drift to the side. “Hate to break it to you…”

Hinata laughs, so Kageyama lets himself laugh too, trying to own the embarrassment. He sighs and sits up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I mean…your butt is unreal.”

“Tobio.”

“And I’m definitely into you.”

Hinata pauses, nods. “Okay. I didn’t want to bring it up before because of what happened and—”

“You don’t need to explain yourself. Or anything. Like, at all.”

Another pause and smile. “Thanks. I’ve known kind of since we met, by the way.”

Kageyama grins at himself because he’s _such_ a dumbass. “Mattsun said I’m transparent.”

“Very. I was like ninety-nine percent sure until you said that I deserve better. That confirmed it.” Hinata grins back. “And I appreciate it.”

_Appreciate…?_ The urge to ask is strong—the need to know if Hinata likes him back. But he’s afraid of the answer and feels like, if Hinata wants to say either way, he’ll say it on his own.

“Really,” Hinata says, reassuring. “I’ve just been too hung up on the other thing to, I don’t know, pay attention. You invite me to things, take me backstage, study and get along with me and my friends. But then Roseneau happened, and I really do feel stupid.”

“That’s the thing though, right? Crushes make us _go_ stupid,” Kageyama says. “Like, my heart is racing right now.” He looks into Hinata’s locked-in eyes. “Feelings are weird like that.”

Hinata smiles. “I guess so.”

“So.” He swallows. _Courage. Soul offering_. “Do you just want to be friends, then?” _Please say no._

“Well, aren’t you going to ask me?”

It catches Kageyama off-guard. He blinks. “Out?”

Hinata laughs and puts up a palm. “Okay, hold on. Aren’t you going to ask me if I like _you_?”

Kageyama shrugs and mumbles, still embarrassed, “I thought I would just…let you say whatever you felt comfortable saying.”

In the pause after he speaks, two people pass by talking in the hall before a door shuts and it’s quiet again.

Hinata says, “You’re a really good guy, you know?”

Kageyama puts his hands in his lap.

“Like.” He crosses his arms again but loosely, like he’s thinking. “You’re just nice. And not in a Tadashi way or like…I don’t know. You just are. To your friends, and to me and my friends. I’ve never heard a mean word come out of your mouth. Even about Kuroo, and it’s not like you didn’t have motive to dissuade me.”

Kageyama swallows and clears his throat. “Well, I—I don’t know. I was kind of angry in high school, but it got so tiring. I guess I think everything will be better in the long run if I just relax. We all just die eventually anyway.”

Hinata blinks, then laughs again. “That’s pretty morbid.”

“Sorry, I don’t know what I’m talking about.” He clears his throat again, tugging at his collar.

“And you have a really attractive face,” Hinata sighs.

Oh.

Outside, the sun is dipping down the horizon.

Hinata’s arms are still crossed. He tilts his head one more time. “I’m gonna kiss you.”

He does it before Kageyama’s brain functions fast enough to realize it. Hinata gets on his knees and leans forward toward him, and suddenly it’s really soft lips on his. He falls back onto his hands, but fixes himself and pushes into it. Hinata isn’t afraid of it, opening it a little but keeping it gentle and easy. Kageyama catches a whiff of citrus shampoo and the faint flavor of coconut Chapstick.

Hinata pulls back slightly, and Kageyama says, “Shou, I—”

“Wait,” Hinata whispers. His hand comes up to Kageyama’s face, and he kisses him a few more times.

Kageyama’s heart explodes into fireworks in his chest. _What a move, Shou. I’m wrapped around your finger._

Hinata breaks it first. He takes his hand away, leans back onto his heels and looks into Kageyama’s eyes. He touches his hair, brushes his fingertips near his lips for half a millisecond, then settles on his knees. “Okay, yeah,” he sighs. “Sorry. I think I like you back.” A nervous, perfect smile. “Sorry.”

Kageyama’s head is spinning around, a huge rush of dopamine to the brain. “Oh my god.” His hands curl into easy fists. “Finally.”

The apples of Hinata’s cheeks turn a little pink when he smiles. “Shut up.”

“Three weeks of cowardice,” Kageyama says. He’s shocked. He could have just done it this whole time, he thinks, but then he realizes that Roseneau needed to happen first. It’s messed up, but it did. And now—

“You know what I think?” Hinata says.

He’s leaning onto his hands a bit, forward on his knees and the cuffs of his shorts dig into his thighs. Kageyama looks at them for a second, then looks at his face. “What?”

“I think you thought it was better between us because you didn’t have to be jealous anymore.”

Kageyama just looks at the simple smile on his lips. The lips he finally just kissed. “Uh.”

“And because you thought you were one step closer.” Hinata sighs and leans back against his bed again. “Not that you’d admit either of those things. And you were right.” His eyebrows go up like he’s surprised himself and he laughs. “You were right.”

Kageyama swallows. He’s pretty sure he’s allowed to just look at Hinata all he wants now, and he plans on taking full advantage of it, effective immediately. “You caught me.”

“Yeah, I know I did.” He hums. “This has been the weirdest four days for me. You probably,” his eyes go to the floor between them, “think I’m kind of a slut for—”

“Whoa, no way. Not at all.” He pauses for Hinata to look up. Words come easier to him now. “I think that—that you liked someone and, you know, did what you wanted, which is a good thing in its own right. And I think that,” he shrugs, “Kuroo has his ways. Whatever they are. And that it’s over now and you deserve to move on at whatever rate you want as long as you feel okay.”

Hinata just shakes his head. “You’re too freaking good,” he mutters.

Kageyama grins. “I’m just really happy that you kissed me.”

Hinata smiles, sighs, lets his head fall back onto his mattress. “ _What_ am I going to tell my family.”

“I mean.” Kageyama shrugs again. “I guess it was a big deal, but like…it’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, but now I have two things like that to tell them.” He lifts his head up and locks in. “And they’re not exactly about the same boy.”

_So does that mean…?_ “Well.”

“Well,” Hinata mimics. He chuckles. “And like, so this is a thing now?”

_Please_. “I mean, that’s up to you. I’d like it to be, so it’s your choice from there.”

Hinata’s lips poke out in thought. “Hi, mom. I know I called you last week, but I have some news. I’m going out with this boy and I’m also not a virgin anymore. Actually, no, it wasn’t this boy, it was someone else, but this new one is the one I like.”

Kageyama laughs, feeling his neck get kind of hot again, and plays it as casually as he can even though the words _going out_ have him feeling loopy. “You can just wait.” He lifts a hand, lowers it on purpose. “You don’t have to tell your parents one way or the other yet. Maybe just—leave it for later.”

Hinata lifts an eyebrow. “Is that always your strategy? Tactical avoidance?”

Kageyama snorts. “I know. But sometimes it helps.”

Hinata shakes his head at him to hide his smile. “All this. Finals next week. I can’t think at all these days.”

Kageyama takes his shot and moves over next to him. He sits the same way, legs close to Hinata’s, puts his arms behind his head and eases back against the bed. “Let’s just not think, then. Tonight at least.”

Hinata looks over at him. “Mm. Good plan.”

Kageyama turns his head. This close: Hinata’s bottom lip a little fuller than the top, a small upturned nose with that shine at the tip, at least four shades in his irises, that signature fluff of orange comma hanging down over his forehead. And every chance Kageyama has wanted to just lean in.

_You’re something good, Shou. In the rest of this total disaster._

“We can kiss more later if you want,” Hinata says. “If I can get you to study first.”

Kageyama immediately leans forward to grab the Goldfish and pull over his backpack. “Then let’s get studying.” Hinata laughs at him. “By the way,” Kageyama says, pouring Goldfish into his hand. “Why don’t you wear those long real pants anymore?” He holds the bag out.

Hinata takes it naturally. “It’s too hot. Did you want me to switch back?” He moves a leg so one of his corduroy cuffs digs in again.

Kageyama can stare now. All he wants. “Definitely not.”

Hinata hums, triumphant, and looks forward. “Loud and clear.”


	16. Maybe Two

_THURSDAY_

* * *

As he’s closing together a peanut butter sandwich, Kageyama does the math in his head. From what he figures, the pills Daishou gives Bokuto last three or four hours, and Bokuto starts craving again in another one or two. Bokuto took one not long after Kageyama got here a few hours ago. It won’t be long then.

He looks at the sandwich in his hands and sees himself sitting eating lunch with Bokuto one day, nine months ago, when he tried to put his Adderall away. Sitting there eating a sandwich while Bokuto pushed things around his plate and looked like the day the police showed up to his parents’ door without his parents, even though that was two years prior. He had no appetite, no attitude, no desire to do anything, even his boyfriend. Maybe the craving he gets isn’t exactly what they think it is.

Bokuto is in the shower singing “Space Oddity”: _Ground Control to Major Tom/ Take your protein pills and put your helmet on._ He doesn’t know a lot more of the words.

Kageyama takes a bite, but it’s just crust.

The front door opens. Mattsun comes to the kitchen threshold and Kageyama waves the sandwich in his direction. “Hey.”

Mattsun looks at him, floppy hair and glasses. “Hey, man. Toss me.” He reaches toward a half-eaten bag of pretzels on the counter.

Kageyama throws it to him. “Eating of your own volition? What’s this guy doing to you?”

Mattsun catches the bag in one hand and leans casually against the wall. He curves up half his mouth and says, “Nothing I’d tell you.”

“Please don’t,” Kageyama chuckles.

“Yeah, you’re kind of a late bloomer, eh?”

His ears get hot. “You’ve just got a confident boyfriend.”

A smile, and no objection to the title. “Indeed.” He motions at his backpack. “Database systems calls.”

“No juice?” He points his sandwich at the fridge.

“Ran out yesterday.”

For some reason, it makes Kageyama feel a lot sadder than it should. “Oh.”

“It’s cool. I’ll get more. Thanks again for it.” Mattsun salutes with the pretzels and turns away.

“Have fun,” Kageyama says.

Mattsun brings his fingers to his head and shoots himself as he goes down the hall.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of Bokuto’s weird half-singing, half-humming, and Kageyama wants to laugh but it’s not funny under the circumstances. Then, down the hall, some brief talking he can’t discern. Besides Mattsun, there’s only one other person in the house right now. He must have left his room.

Kageyama stands a little straighter and prepares himself because he hasn’t talked to Kuroo since he went to Hinata’s dorm on Tuesday. It makes no difference that they kissed; Kuroo doesn’t even know about it or care, and it doesn’t involve him, but stupidly it feels like it still does. It hits Kageyama that Kuroo might have kissed Hinata too, before him, but that’s definitely not something he wants to think about and it really doesn’t matter anymore. He’ll get over it eventually.

Kuroo walks into the kitchen. “You’re taking Bokuto tonight, right?”

Kageyama clears peanut butter feeling from his throat. “Yeah. Gonna hang ribbons for Saturday.”

“Thank fucking god. The singing.” He goes to the coffee maker, half empty.

Kageyama is kind of offended for Bokuto, but he also doesn’t live here. “Want a sandwich?”

Facing away, Kuroo says, “I’m good. Coffee?”

“At eight PM?”

Kuroo pours himself a mug. “I’ll probably be up till one writing. Working on the new one. Had like half an idea earlier today, so.”

If there’s one good trait to Kuroo’s personality, it’s dedication. He’s written way more songs than they actually play, he just picked which ones made the cut for their short time slots. Kageyama nods. “Nice.”

They stand across the kitchen from each other. In the pause, Bokuto is loud, singing the same wrong words again.

Kuroo turns to face him and leans back against the counter, crossing one arm. He takes a sip and says, “It’s originally made from sassafras roots, you know.”

Kageyama blinks at him. He’s pretty sure Kuroo isn’t talking about coffee. “Huh?”

Bokuto suddenly gives up on “Space Oddity” and starts voicing the opening instrumental for “Manor of Man”.

“They get the compound from the oil in it,” Kuroo tells him. “But it’s endangered, and so they’re just synthesizing it. There’s even names for the fake shit. And then it gets shipped around and it’s cheap as hell and sold for way more than it’s worth, and nobody cares enough to notice cause it still does _something_ , still gets you up like that.” He barely tilts his chin in the direction of the bathroom. “Euphoric. Half the time now, in any one of those pills, there might not be any MDMA at all.”

The sandwich is loose in his grip and his stomach twists. What is he supposed to say? What does that mean?

In the shower, Bokuto is belting out “Manor” and everybody dies.

“Even if there is,” Kuroo says. He crosses a leg too, props on his toes. “The likelihood that it’s been cut is pretty much a guarantee. Ketamine, bath salts, meth.” He takes another sip, and he looks at the air between them with this thick glare. “It’s these little single cocktails. You never know anymore. He says it’s Molly cause it’s what that piece of shit is telling him, but in the end, he probably has no fucking clue what he’s taking.”

Kageyama stares at him. Bokuto messes up a line in their own song. “So then. What’s.”

Kuroo uncrosses. “Like hell if I know, man.”

“Then how do we…”

Kuroo shakes his head. “We can’t.”

The water shuts off all at once. Kageyama stands there, trying to figure out where everything is going, watching Kuroo drink his coffee, until Bokuto comes into the kitchen on bare feet, shirtless, towel around his waist and his ribbon already back on his arm. He’s hollow and pale, wet hair dark and sloppy on his head.

“Why am I so freaking thirsty all the time, you guys?” he says.

“Coffee?” Kuroo offers.

Bokuto laughs. “Dude. I wish that was enough.”

…

At early May in the southeast, the nights are getting hotter. The air is humid, windy, and cicadas chirr in the trees around them as they walk. It looks like it could rain, like the sky is in on the mood. Kageyama is actually wearing short sleeves—this three-dollar thrift store Tears for Fears tee with _Everybody Loves A Happy Ending_ on it, which feels right now like it’s mocking him. His arms seem exposed and he feels defenseless. He’s carrying a roll of ribbon and scissors in one hand, but he shoves the other in his pocket for comfort.

Bokuto sticks his hand in his pocket at the same time, like he’s searching even though he knows he didn’t bring any. He pulls it back out empty and squeezes it into a fist. This is the third time since they left the house fifteen minutes ago.

“Up there.” He points at the dusky shape of a tree.

The sodium lights are spaced out, the lights in the buildings are mostly off, and things have lost color as night fell. “You gonna climb?” Kageyama asks. He has the next cut of red ribbon ready.

Bokuto does a weak laugh. Singing in the shower ended almost two hours ago. It looks like Kageyama’s math was spot on. “Yeah,” Bokuto says. “Gimme a light.”

He goes to the base of the tree as Kageyama finds his phone. When he turns on the flashlight, Bokuto is already scaling it, his ankle mostly healed but one of those giant Band-Aids still on it by force of Akaashi so he won’t pick at it. Kageyama shines his flashlight up while Bokuto climbs, pulling himself up a few branches, and balances. Kageyama easily imagines him falling and snapping his leg in half, laughing, but Bokuto is used to this and usually does it alone anyway. Still, a big part of Kageyama is relieved that he’s here this time.

“Good, or higher?” Bokuto calls down.

_Can we just not climb this time, Bo?_ “There’s good.”

Bokuto ties the ribbon in a bow and jumps down before Kageyama can tell him not to, doesn’t even hang and drop. He doesn’t break anything when he lands, so at least there’s that.

“Have fun getting that one down,” Bokuto says, brushing his palms. He puts his hand in his pocket, takes it back out.

Kageyama doesn’t reply. He takes out his phone and checks the time. Ten. Perfect math.

“That your boyfriend?” Bokuto asks.

He makes himself laugh once. “No. Just checking what time it is.” They keep walking.

“He’s not texting you tonight,” Bokuto says.

_Yeah, on purpose. He actually wished me luck. On talking to my best friend. Does that make sense, man?_ “He knows I’m here with you.”

Bokuto pauses and looks at the ground. “Oh.” He sniffs. “You don’t have to—”

“Yeah, I do.”

Bokuto doesn’t answer.

Part of Kageyama is angry. Part of him is guilty. Scared. Sad. Worried. Most of him right now is nervous. _Good luck, Tobio. I hope you guys can talk it out!_ Talk what out? All the drugs in his system?

“Here?” he asks, going over to a display board with fliers for campus events.

Bokuto shrugs. “Sure. I got you.” He goes into the other pocket, finds his phone, turns on the flashlight.

It shines bright into Kageyama’s eyes. He stands there in a trembling circle of light. “Thanks.”

“You know, Tobe, I barely even have any Adderall anymore,” Bokuto says.

Kageyama unrolls a new strip of ribbon and thinks about how he wants to answer that. All that ends up coming out is, “That’s great.” He cuts the ribbon and the scissors make a _shink_.

Bokuto says, “Really?” and Kageyama isn’t sure what tone it’s in.

“Yeah.” He ties the ribbon around one post.

Bokuto turns the flashlight off and lowers his hand. “Yeah.” Both hands go to both pockets. “Stupid,” he mutters.

“Huh?”

“I was stupid. I should have brought more. I have to work.”

“Isn’t work tomorrow night?” Kageyama walks on a little farther, but Bokuto doesn’t. Kageyama stops and turns back around.

Bokuto stands there with his feet together and says, “Oh yeah.” He scratches at the ribbon on his arm. Suddenly, the cicadas seem really loud.

“How’s that going?” Kageyama asks.

“It’s good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like.” Bokuto sniffs and looks sideways. “My boss is…” He crosses his arms. “Last time, I knocked a pan over. Chipped a tile and it splattered oil.”

Kageyama should be at least a little surprised, right? “That’s pretty dangerous.”

“I know. The guys were pissed at me and my boss cursed me out and said that’s my second warning.”

Kageyama doesn’t even know what the first warning was. He doesn’t really need to.

“But like, it’s good.” Bokuto shivers. “And Daishou—I have to…” He sighs and shakes his head, starts picking at his nail polish. “Never mind.”

“What.”

“Never mind,” he says quieter.

Kageyama looks over at him. There’s the sudden image in his head of Bokuto standing in the dark of a Porta Potty. There are tear tracks on his cheeks because he’s been laughing so hard, his ankle is bleeding onto the dirty plastic floor, the backs of his thighs are burned from hot shingles, and he’s holding a water bottle but it’s empty, crackling plastic in his clenched fist. The hi-hat is rattling somewhere outside. He’s pointing his shaking phone flashlight down at a purple Ziploc of pills in the toilet.

But Kageyama would rather not think about that. Is this what he’s like when he’s scared?

His hair, face, and arms feel gross in the humidity. “I’ve never even met the guy,” he says, “but he’s pretty freaking sus.”

“He’s a history major,” Bokuto says.

“And?”

Bokuto blinks at him, then looks away and shrugs. “I don’t know.” He reaches into his pocket.

Kageyama sighs out. His breath feels hot in his throat.

For some reason, Bokuto won’t leave the Porta Potty. He’s just standing there staring, burning in the heat but he won’t sweat. Stuck.

“What are you feeling right now?” Kageyama asks for some reason. “Right in this moment?”

Bokuto appears to check himself and smiles at him, and it reminds him of the smile that Suga did when Bokuto hurt himself in Roseneau. It’s pleading with him. “It’s cool, dude. It’s really cool.”

Kageyama thinks. “I’m considering some things.”

“No, like, it’s cool,” Bokuto says. “It’s fine.”

If Bokuto does reach in and pick up that bag and then try to open the door and exit, it’ll all be dark and his flashlight won’t work anymore.

“It’s fine,” Bokuto says again.

“We’re tired, Bo.”

“You don’t think I am?” He reaches into his pocket.

“Just _stop_ , man. You’re fucking freaking me out.”

Bokuto startles badly and turns to him. He blinks wide golden eyes and then angles his face toward the ground. “Sorry.” He shoves the heels of his hands against his eyes. “God, I’m sorry.”

Kageyama feels awful for raising his voice. They never fight—it would be stupid to fight about this because that’s not the problem. _Please don’t cry. It’s okay when you cry for no reason, but please don’t cry right now._

They’re just standing there in the heat and the dark.

Kageyama raises weak arms and they fall again. “Dude, I’m just, like, worried about you.”

Bokuto rubs at his face more and takes a deep breath. He looks at Kageyama, swallowing heavily. “Kaashi said that.”

Kageyama sighs. “Well, he’s right. Something feels weird. It’s all just, like…”

Bokuto looks at the ground.

He wants to apologize, but then Bokuto will apologize again, and what’s the point. Instead, he asks, “Is everything okay?”

Bokuto looks at him again. It takes him a long time to say anything. “It’s fine. I know it looks like it’s not but, like, it’s, it is what it is right now. I have to, um, work some stuff out and it’s. I just.” He brings his hands to his head. “I got used to it, dude, like—I did. I got used to it.” He blinks at Kageyama. “Suga asked me about Atlanta and I said yes. It’s almost the anniversary, but I promise I could stop whenever, okay? Because I ordered these new sticks and they’ll be here soon. The six of us, what’s happening? I’m twenty-one next month. Like, I have to go to work tomorrow night. Seriously. Sometimes they _freeze people._ ” He drops his hands to his sides. The ends of his ribbon sway against his arm in a warm breeze. “And I got used to it.”

Bokuto Koutarou: almost twenty-one years old, eighteen when it happened, Kageyama’s best friend since they were kids, embodies at least one form of insanity. Maybe two.

The thought that this is just like Roseneau—that something needs to happen for anything to change—goes through Kageyama’s head, and it’s really, really unnerving.

What is he supposed to do?

He forces himself to take a step forward, to open his mouth. “Come on.” He goes to Bokuto, puts a hand on his shoulder, and leaves it there for a second before taking it away. “It’s okay.” _I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry_. “We’ve got a lot of ribbon left.”

Bokuto rubs his eyes again and nods. He says, “Yeah,” and they keep walking.

Ten more ribbons, no more trees, shaking hands that take a long time to get the flashlight to work. Bokuto might have cried, but Kageyama was too afraid to look at him.

“Should we loop back around?” he asks.

“Tobio, why do you want to be with the band?”

It throws him off that Bokuto used his full name. He forgets how often they use nicknames, or just call each other dude. He looks at Bokuto’s figure and shrugs. “I don’t know.” He takes a breath. The air is warm in his throat and so thick that it feels like he’ll choke on it. “I guess it just makes me feel useful, you know?”

“Yeah. Me too.”

A pause. “Why are you taking ecstasy, Bo?”

Bokuto looks at his figure and shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess it just makes me feel happy.”

He reaches into his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any song/album/artist I mention in this story is highly recommended!


	17. 00:00 | START

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning**

_FRIDAY_

* * *

He had to double back after leaving classes since he accidentally took the cap from the guy’s pen he used to sign a petition for campus solar panels. He was already running later than he wanted because the campus store had old books for two dollars so he picked one up for Bokuto, and realizing he still had the pen cap freaked him out, and he almost ran to give it back and get it off his hands.

He came really close to skipping arch history today, thought about just going to the house early, but it’s the last Friday before finals—review day—and the idea of missing something vital made him nervous. He already knew everything and the professor let them out before time, so he signed a petition for solar panels then went to the campus store to get a book for two dollars but then had to double back.

His heart palpitates in his chest as he scurries off campus in this stupid yellow T-shirt he’s had for ages. Since last night’s talk with Bokuto, he’s felt like he’s going to throw up.

It’s just after five when he gets to the house. He glances up at the roof, wondering how hot the shingles actually get, but Bokuto isn’t up there. Kuroo’s door is cracked open, so Suga isn’t here. There’s a skeletal demo playing of what Kageyama assumes is the new song Kuroo has been working on, the one Suga came over for on Monday—just bass and some computerized music added in with the program Kuroo uses, plus Suga’s voice, tame and low quality on the laptop speaker through the door, holding out lyrics

_How much am I supposed to take?_

_What I’ve lost and can’t replace_

_It stayed there where I_

until Kuroo pauses it and the sound stops. Kageyama considers greeting him but thinks better of it when Kuroo is writing. He looks into Mattsun’s room on his left; he’s sitting at his monitor with his headphones on—his blissful allotted hour of gaming between schoolwork. He notices Kageyama there and turns to him.

“Hey,” Kageyama says.

Mattsun brings up an inventory and pulls his headphones down to his neck. “Hey, man. Bokuto went out, just got back not too long ago. He’s in his room.” He hooks a thumb at their adjoining wall.

“Thanks. How was your last test?”

“Aced it maybe.”

Kageyama snorts. “No kidding. Chill for a day or two, huh?”

Mattsun hums. “Easy for you to say. Let me shoot some stuff.” He points at his screen.

Kageyama does a finger gun at him. “Loud and clear. Later.”

He turns to go down the hall to Bokuto’s room, ready for Bokuto to raise his arms and say, _You’re here!_ “Dude,” he calls. “They had this book on lucid dreaming for like two bucks today.” He swings his backpack off his shoulder. “If you wanna check it out.” Bokuto’s door is ajar. He pushes it open.

The purple Ziploc is empty next to Bokuto’s body slumped unconscious against the side of his bed.

For a long time, Kageyama just stands there, holding his backpack. Somewhere in the back of his mind an alarm is going off that sounds like the hi-hat rattling. A wave of cold washes gently out into his limbs.

“Bo.” He clears the space between them in three steps, a stray bead cracking under his shoe, drops his backpack, drops to his knees. “Oh my god. Oh my _god. Issei._ ” He puts his hands on Bokuto’s shoulders.

Mattsun is already rushing over. He stops in the doorway, one hand on the frame. His eyes widen behind his glasses. “Oh no. Oh shit.”

“How—how long?” Kageyama says, and his voice cracks too.

“Is he dead?” Mattsun asks.

He better not be. There haven’t been thirteen years of friendship for this.

The palpitations and the adrenaline are so bad all of a sudden that he thinks he’s actually going to puke, all over the floor, mix in with the leftover beads and why the _hell_ hasn’t Bokuto cleaned them up? _Beads, Bo? You_ burned _them?_

He’s panicking.

_Focus, Tobio. For once just_ focus _. Do something._

Are _you dead?_

He shoves three fingers against Bokuto’s neck, searching around. He’s relieved to find a pulse, but it feels so sudden on his fingers that he pulls his hand away fast because it freaks him out more. “He’s not. How long, dude, how long?”

Mattsun shakes his head rapidly. “Jesus, uh—ten? Ten minutes? Maybe?” In disbelief, he rubs a hand back over his head and wheezes out, “ _He just fucking got here._ ”

“Okay. Yeah, okay.” Kageyama puts his hands in Bokuto’s armpits and hikes him further up, shoving him against the bed. Despite his size, his body feels like one of those plastic classroom skeletons, except he’s uncannily hot. “I think he—he uses rapid release, right? His Adderall?” He looks up at Mattsun.

Mattsun’s lips are just sitting open and he’s staring at Bokuto’s body.

Kageyama nods just so someone confirms him. “Yeah. And his other pills were uncoated. Right, okay.” He looks at Bokuto again. “Right. Let’s hope it was less than ten.”

Kuroo appears in the doorway behind Mattsun. “What’s the problem?” His eyes land on Bokuto, and he never really looks surprised at anything, but this time he looks like he expected this all along. “Is he fucking OD-ing? Why the fuck is he passed out?”

Kageyama is so stunned by the question and by all of this that he can’t think of any words to reply.

“He wouldn’t want an ambulance,” Mattsun murmurs.

They can’t even afford one, and if there are cops, Bokuto will lose his job. And there’s his aversion to ambulances and hospitals; if he woke up in one, in a hospital bed, he’d probably have a hysterical break. Or, judging by last night, the one he’s already having would get worse. If it can get worse than this.

A massive lump is forming in Kageyama’s throat, but he can’t cry because he’s not a crier and he’s not going to cry in front of Bokuto’s wasted body because if he does, then that means it’s real. This can’t be.

He imagines Bokuto sitting up, grinning at him, laughing and saying it was all a joke and he’s not overdosing and the pills were just sugar this whole time, that Daishou is just a buddy who was in on it because it was just a prank and he’s an idiot and he just wanted to know that they all cared about him. And then, in the vision, Kageyama looks down to see Bokuto’s ankle bleeding a lot, so much that he’s turning pale and his veins are showing and his clothes are sagging off of him, and when he looks back up, Bokuto is still leaning against the bed dying.

“What,” he says.

“You don’t pass out on ecstasy,” Kuroo says. “What was in those things?”

“What?”

“Dude, can you fucking do something?” Kuroo is staring at him, voice raised. “Fucking—make him throw up.”

“Huh?” So this is what he’s like when he’s terrified. Complete space-out, system failure. He looks at Bokuto again, his lips dry.

“We’re lucky he’s not seizing,” Kuroo says, taking a step into the hallway and then back again. “Never wanted him on that shit. Who knows what’s in him right now.”

Kageyama takes Bokuto’s jaw in one hand. “I’m gonna…”

“What do we do?” Mattsun asks.

Kageyama is sweating, he can’t stop thinking, and something breaks. “I don’t fucking _know_ , guys.” He’s shouting now too, shrieking maybe. “I don’t even—” His voice cracks again. “I’m freaking out.” If he’d just skipped class, hadn’t stopped to buy the book. Hadn’t taken the pen cap.

“Just fucking do it!” Kuroo yells back.

Kageyama pushes two of his fingers as far as he can down Bokuto’s throat.

Mattsun winces in the doorway. “Oh my god. Okay. Should I—I mean, god, should I just call nine-one-one?”

Bokuto’s body spasms with a gag. Kageyama waits, Mattsun and Kuroo staring, but nothing happens. “Just work,” he breathes. He looks hard at Bokuto’s empty face. “You’re not getting it, you dumbass.” He shakes him hard. “Wake _up_.”

Bokuto barely releases a weak groan from his throat. Kageyama tries his fingers again and Bokuto retches; wrinkles appear at the corners of his eyes before he goes slack again. Kageyama withdraws his hand from his mouth, slick with bile.

“I’ll keep trying. Issei, do you,” he looks up and swallows hard, “have a towel or something?”

Mattsun nods. “Yeah. Oh my god.” He turns and goes into the hall.

Kageyama feels around Bokuto’s skin—his upper arm, forehead, cheek. “He’s searing.”

“But no sweat,” Kuroo says.

Kageyama sighs and hangs his head. “Tell me to call an ambulance.”

Kuroo doesn’t.

Kageyama looks up and pleads. “Please, Kuroo. Please just tell me.”

Mattsun comes back, hands the towel over, and says nothing either. He returns to the doorway to make a strait jacket with his arms. He closes in on himself, shakes a knee. This is Mattsun when he’s terrified.

Kageyama swallows all the tears down his throat. His eyes sting painfully. Bokuto isn’t stupid. He knew this would happen. “I know,” he says to Kuroo. “Um.” He wipes his trembling hand on the towel. “How much ice do we have?”

“He’s overheating,” Mattsun mumbles, not a question. His face is blanking out. “Hyperthermia.”

“What’s in the freezer,” Kuroo says. “That’s all.”

“It’s something.” Kageyama looks at Bokuto and pushes dry hair, color fading out, processed dead, away from his face. No one is shouting anymore and it’s really quiet in the house. “Run a bath, Issei. The coldest you can make it.”

Mattsun doesn’t reply, just goes.

“Help me get his clothes off.”

Kuroo steps into the room.

In too much time, they’re shouldering Bokuto toward the bathroom, down to baby blue boxer briefs and baby blue veins.

“He’s a furnace,” Kuroo says to nobody in particular. “He knew how much. He probably took what was left of his Adderall with it. Everything.”

“You better throw up,” Kageyama whispers. He grips tight to Bokuto’s arm over his shoulder.

The green clawfoot tub is half full, the cold tap running as high as it can go, and Mattsun dumped the ice in. He’s standing pressed into the wall chewing on his nails, his shirt splattered with water, his glasses askew. He’s breathing a lot and his face is vacant.

“You okay?” Kageyama asks.

Mattsun nods then shakes his head. “Just fix it.”

Bokuto groans as they lower him into the tub and lean him back. Kageyama shuts the water off and starts to kick off his shoes. “Hey, Issei?”

Mattsun flicks his gaze up. “Huh?”

“Search his desk and his stuff for more. Every book. If you find any, come flush it.”

Mattsun walks out of the bathroom.

Kageyama looks at Bokuto in the tub. He’s terrible—too skinny for his frame, with his shoulders poking out against dull skin, and he’s pale and all the same color like a strange limp mannequin except for his purple hair and chipped green nails. His ribs show, half submerged.

Kageyama takes off his shirt and turns to look at Kuroo.

Behind his bangs, Kuroo wipes a tear track from underneath one eye. Terrified.

“Kuroo.”

He looks up.

“Call Akaashi.”


	18. 00:40

At six on the dot, Akaashi slams the front door behind him. He takes quick footsteps down the hall and his form appears in the bathroom doorway.

“Koutarou.”

Bokuto is pressed against Kageyama’s chest, leaning back in the water, eyes still closed. There’s a chemical sheen on the surface from when he finally threw up viscous foam and undissolved pieces of orange and white. Kuroo got it out with the ice tray. The water was cold at the beginning, but now it’s lukewarm and Bokuto isn’t as hot. Kageyama is holding a bag of thawing vegetables to his head with one hand, the other arm wrapped around him as Bokuto lies between his legs so he won’t slide down and drown.

Kuroo is sitting on the toilet lid, elbows on his knees. Mattsun is still against the wall. He took one of his pills after he didn’t find any more of Bokuto’s.

Kageyama looks up at Akaashi and says, “He’s not dying anymore.”

Akaashi stares into the tub.

“Suga’s on the way,” Kuroo tells him.

“What happened,” Akaashi says, then, “God, I know what happened.”

“I didn’t greet him when he came in,” Mattsun says absently.

Kageyama feels Bokuto move against his chest. His head lolls sideways and he says, “Kaashi…”

Akaashi swallows.

Kageyama puts the bag down on the floor. He takes one of Bokuto’s hands and squeezes it. “Wake up, man. Hey. Wake up.” He starts to sit up, but Bokuto’s face twists and his shoulders tense up and he groans.

“It’s okay,” Akaashi says.

It’s not. It’s time to do something. Kageyama pushes up again. “Come on, Bo. Keiji’s here. You have to wake up now.”

“Bokuto?” Mattsun says.

Bokuto squeezes his eyes tight. “Stop trying to freeze me.”

Kuroo says, “Can you sit up, du—”

“You’re trying to freeze me. I don’t want to see the future. I don’t want to go.”

Akaashi finally takes a step into the bathroom. “Koutarou.”

Bokuto turns his head to the sound of Akaashi’s voice. He blinks open his eyes and pulls his lips into what could be a smile. “Hey, babe.”

Akaashi stands on the wet tile. Kuroo spilled some water scooping out the vomit. Kageyama notices that Akaashi didn’t even put socks on before he came here.

Akaashi says, “I want to kill you.”

Bokuto swallows hard. “I’m sorry.”

Akaashi goes toward him and sits on the floor next to the tub. Kageyama helps Bokuto lift his arm up to bring his hand over the side. It drips in Akaashi’s lap, and Akaashi takes it in both of his own. He says, “So am I.”

After a silence, Kuroo’s phone starts buzzing. He picks up. “Hey. Yeah. No, he woke up.” His eyes drift over to Bokuto. “Barely.” He sits listening to Suga for a moment, then nods. “He’ll have to.” A pause. “Yeah. See you.” He shuts his phone off.

Kageyama looks at him, and Kuroo looks back, and it all makes sense.

Mattsun says, “Bokuto, where’s your ribbon?”


	19. 01:00

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **As we move forward, there will occasionally be imagery of Kageyama remembering what happened, as well as continued mentions/discussions of suicide. Also, a slur warning for this chapter.

Sitting on the end of Mattsun’s bed, Kageyama watches his tears soak into the rug. They were helping Bokuto into the kitchen—dried him off, got him some clothes, and were bringing everyone to the table to sit and have the talk, and he realized that he would have to get another chair because there weren’t enough for all of them, and this small inconvenience pummeled him over. Mattsun and Bokuto both have desk chairs, but he couldn’t go back into Bokuto’s room right now—couldn’t look at all those beads and the empty bag on the floor—so he came here instead and sat to cry because everything that’s happening is real.

He shoves his hands at his eyes one more time, forcing the emotions back in, drying his lashes. He takes a breath, then takes Mattsun’s chair into the kitchen.

“Are you okay, Tobio?” Suga asks softly. He’s at the table with his phone out, Googling whatever he could think of about this, as if any of them have any power. He ran here when Kuroo called him—literally sprinted—and his hair is sweaty and soft around his face. His eyes look like he might have cried too.

“Yeah,” Kageyama says. He puts his chair down and sits. “Thanks.”

“Are you sure?” Bokuto says, but not to him.

Kuroo comes from the sink with their tallest glass of water and puts it on the table. “You don’t have any other clean clothes, man.”

Bokuto has his shorts back on, and now he’s wearing one of Kuroo’s shirts, a little loose when it should be too tight, because the other one had bile on it and he ran out of clothing since he hasn’t done laundry in over a week. Things would have been a lot easier if he’d just cried like usual, but then they wouldn’t all be sitting here. Just like Roseneau, this was a necessary evil.

Bokuto looks at the table.

Akaashi sits next to him and pushes the glass of water closer. “Drink it.”

“But I already drank a whole—”

“Then sip it, I don’t care. Drink the water.” He stares Bokuto down until he puts weak-looking hands around the glass.

Kageyama watches him. When Bokuto looks right at him suddenly with dull eyes surrounded in shadow, he puts his hands on the edge of the table to keep himself from running.

“Are you still walking with me tonight?” Bokuto asks him.

Kageyama blinks at him. “Huh?”

“You’re not going to work tonight, Bokuto,” Suga says in his gentle, neurotic way.

“But I have to. I’m scheduled.”

“Oh fucking well,” Kuroo says, and that’s enough to stop them from saying anything else on it.

Bokuto’s face twitches, but he chooses not to cry. He’s done that enough times since he woke up that Kageyama has lost count. Bokuto rubs his arm where his ribbon should be, looks at his glass of water, and mumbles in this feeble voice, “It’s just Molly.”

Kuroo narrows his eyes. “What?”

Bokuto shrugs. “It’s just a club drug, it shouldn’t have been a big deal, I was fine and I was gonna be done any time, right?”

“It’s fake,” Kuroo says curtly. “If there was even a little bit of ketamine in those things, taking enough could _kill_ you. Enough of anything in those pills could kill you. You don’t pass out on just stimulants. How many did you take?”

Bokuto shrugs harder, scared by all the words. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

“Perhaps a rough estimate?”

“I don’t—”

“How fucking many?”

“I didn’t count, okay?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tetsurou,” Suga says.

Kageyama tightens his grip on the table. The first name came out. Suga is the only one who gets to use it.

Kuroo shakes his head, crossing his arms on the table. “You took all your Adderall with it anyway. What did you expect.”

“Hey,” Suga says, and Bokuto says, “I’m—” and Akaashi says, “Both of you shut up,” and Suga says louder, “That’s _enough_.”

Kageyama takes another deep breath so he doesn’t shake too violently.

“This isn’t helping anything” Suga says. “Let’s just calm down and talk about this.”

“Drink the water,” Akaashi says again.

Bokuto gives him a pitiful, begging kind of look. “My throat hurts.”

Kuroo rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah. Kageyama probably scratched you when he was saving your life.”

Kageyama meets Bokuto’s eyes. With all of Bokuto’s color gone, with his eyes so dull and his lips so pale and the bones in his face showing, there is no trace remaining of the Bokuto he knew when they were kids, or even a few months ago. The old Bokuto is somewhere else, not sitting at this table. He’s stuck in a small dark room in the middle of nowhere, Schrödinger’s Cat, waiting for the choice to be made. If he’s going to pick back up that purple bag or not.

Mattsun has been pouring a glass of juice the entire time, moving slowly and automatically through the motions of going to the fridge, opening the door, bending down, reaching for the bottle, wrapping his hand around it, taking it out, closing the fridge, going to the counter, opening a cabinet, reaching for a glass, wrapping his hand around it—all until he had juice poured and a second dose of Xanax in his palm that he throws back into his throat and drinks down. By the time he comes to the table and begins chewing on his nail, Kageyama is still looking at Bokuto while everyone waits for someone to say something else.

“Thanks for not calling an ambulance,” Bokuto ends up saying.

Kageyama says, “Yeah.”

Bokuto puts on a grin and laughs. “My insurance never would have covered it anyway.” Kuroo rubs his face again. Bokuto looks back at the surface of the table.

“Okay, I’ll start,” Suga finally says. He pauses and sighs as though he doesn’t know how to. “So. Bokuto, you overdosed.” He puts a hand out but then pulls it back again, and Bokuto’s fingers curl around the water glass more. Suga clears his throat. “Pretty badly. So, that means you need help. We all…” His eyes fall to the table in front of him. “Took too long.”

It stabs Kageyama and twists itself in his stomach. Nobody said anything when they all knew something was wrong with Bokuto. He didn’t do anything because he never does. What kind of best friend is he?

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” Bokuto asks, looking around the table.

Kuroo side-eyes him. “You were unconscious and hyperthermic. You know what that shit does to your organs? You could be brain dead.”

“Why didn’t you let us know?” Suga’s voice is suddenly frantic. He blinks and reigns in it. “We could see it happening and we wouldn’t have, like…judged you that way.” But he can’t hold Bokuto’s gaze. They all know that’s really close to a lie.

“You knew?” Bokuto asks.

“We all knew,” Mattsun murmurs.

Bokuto’s face twitches again. His shoulders tuck in, and he brings up the glass of water to take a long sip.

Akaashi asks, “Was it on purpose?”

Bokuto flinches, lowers his glass. The sheepish look on his face seems to weigh down his entire body. “I don’t know.”

Akaashi narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I, like, I don’t know.”

“How can you not know, Koutarou.”

“Because I’m messed up, okay, I—I don’t know.” The hand he waved lowers shakily back down into his lap.

Akaashi doesn’t flinch. He looks at Bokuto with a flat, serious stare with anger attached to it at the corners. Kageyama wants to say something so nobody gets mad, or hopes Suga will, even Kuroo, but nobody is going to talk over Akaashi.

Akaashi says evenly, “If you’re trying to get me to say that it’s okay then stop being a backhanded—”

“I’m not, Kaashi,” Bokuto whines. “I swear. I just…” He writhes around like he’s in pain—he probably is—and his eyes are glassy. “I took a bunch. I know it’s not okay. I just did.”

Akaashi keeps staring at him. “You didn’t plan it?”

Bokuto deflates, shoulders slumping forward. “I didn’t. I just saw it there when I got home and…I just did. I got used to it.” He looks again like he might cry, but he closes his eyes and shakes it away.

So it wasn’t an accident, but it wasn’t premeditated. That means something, right?

Akaashi leans back into his chair and looks forward at nothing.

Eventually, Suga says, “What _happened_ , Bokuto?”

Bokuto sits there for a second while they wait. “I just… I have one more screw-up before I lose my job. I could have hurt people.” He sniffs and pushes uselessly at his hair. “Daishou called m—” It catches in his throat. He tries again. “He called me a needy tweaking fag.”

Suga closes his eyes. Kuroo scoffs and mutters, “What is this, the nineteen fucking fifties?”

“And my—” Bokuto looks up at Mattsun. “My ribbon. I just—I lost it.” His lips quiver like a child’s while he’s begging in Mattsun’s direction as if he or any of them would be upset or blame this— _any_ of this—on him. “I don’t even know when or where. They didn’t even take it from me. It was today. I was out earlier and I don’t even know where it went. I know I put it on last night after my shower and this morning it was here and when I got back it was gone. I just lost it. It’s my fault.”

Not a small inconvenience. Not for Bokuto.

The ribbon, the job threat, the slur. What happened when he turned eighteen, and everything that’s been happening inside of him since then.

Kageyama should be speaking up. He’s Bokuto’s best friend since they were kids. This is the most important thing for him right now and he can’t even open his mouth.

They all sit there, looking at Bokuto about to cry. They’ve all seen him cry plenty of times before, but for some reason this time is different. He looks dismantled by what happened, shattered by the loss of a piece of cheap red satin. Kageyama stares at his upper arm where the ribbon should be and something feels extremely empty.

“Bokuto,” Suga says softly. “It’s okay. We can make you a new one.”

Bokuto looks up and blinks. Akaashi next to him is looking at him but won’t put his hands on him. “It was three feet, four inches,” Bokuto says. He looks down. “It’s not the same.”

“Look, dude,” Kageyama says. He doesn’t know where the words came from—he’s surprised his voice is making the effort. He says, “We’re going to figure this out.”

Bokuto blinks at him too.

Mattsun stops chewing his nail for a second and says, “You know Kuroo cried, right?”

Either his meds are just kicking in or the cool Mattsun that teases Kageyama about crushes is coming back after the shock. Maybe a bit of both. It lifts the air, and Kageyama feels them all relax a little bit. Suga looks at Kuroo, who’s using his bangs as a curtain like always, and Bokuto’s eyes widen a little. He stares at Kuroo and says, “You did?”

Kuroo doesn’t respond right away. As they all start hiding smiles, he says, “Fuck you guys,” and then smiles too, actually laughing once. He pushes his hair back from his face, momentarily revealing extremely handsome features. “You asshole. I thought you were gonna die.”

Bokuto giggles a little. “None of you guys know how to play drums.”

“No drums _or_ guitar?” Suga shakes his head dramatically.

“Not on my watch,” Kageyama says, nudging Bokuto’s arm.

“Not on _our_ watch,” Akaashi says brusquely. Bokuto’s smile fades along with everyone else’s. “This isn’t a joke.”

He’s right. Bokuto _could_ have died. No drums _or_ drummer, boyfriend, bandmate, best friend. Kageyama shuts up.

Suga takes a breath. “Keiji is right. We’re all glad you’re okay, Bokuto, but this is a mess. It’s not good.”

“Give me your wallet,” Akaashi says all at once.

Bokuto looks over at him. “Come on, Kaashi, is that really—”

Akaashi speaks over him. “No cash and I’m confiscating your cards.” He looks seriously at Bokuto. “It’s completely necessary, Koutarou. You almost _died_. You could have gone into organ failure if Tobio hadn’t gotten it of your system and cooled you down. You’re lucky I wasn’t here or you’d be in a hospital bed right now.” He shakes his head. “Think about it. What would have happened if he hadn’t shown up?”

“But you knew he would,” Kuroo mutters.

They all hear it, but nobody says anything.

Akaashi puts a hand out, palm up. “Bring it to me.”

Bokuto thinks about it, barely. Even if he wasn’t exhausted and sick, he still wouldn’t fight Akaashi. “Okay.” He gets up slowly and goes to his room. Kageyama watches him, shaky on his feet, then looks at Suga and they both look down. Bokuto walks back in and says, “I don’t trust banks anyway.” He hands his wallet over to Akaashi with a pathetic smile.

“I think you should take some time off work, too,” Suga says.

Bokuto makes a small noise in his throat. “But my boss—”

“Then quit.” Kuroo looks at him. “That place is no good for you.”

“But I—”

“Or the people there.”

Bokuto closes his mouth. He sits back down at the table. “Okay.”

“You’ll find something somewhere else,” Mattsun says. “But you need to get better first, man.”

“I know, I just—”

“Dude,” Kuroo says. He looks directly into Bokuto’s face. “Everyone here cares about you but you.”

Bokuto’s mouth opens, but he can’t say anything. A tremor goes through him. He tucks in his shoulders again, his cheeks redden, and he looks down.

As Kageyama watches, Suga glances at Kuroo. He remembers the call when they were still in the bathroom, the look he and Kuroo gave each other when he hung up. Kuroo saying to Suga over the phone, _He’ll have to_.

_Fine, Bo,_ he thinks. _If you’re going to make me do this, then I will. You’re my best friend._

Kageyama gathers all his courage, what minuscule amount he has, and says, “I guess we’ll need a few days.” When he looks around at everyone, they all seem to understand. Everyone but Bokuto. Kageyama swallows. “To be safe.”

“Two or three, I think. For the worst of it,” Akaashi says. He’s the only one who would really know how long Bokuto has actually been using, even if he didn’t know what the new pills were. Even if he didn’t say anything about it.

“Of what?” Bokuto asks.

Suga sighs and crosses his arms uncomfortably. “You have to get it out of your system.”

Another pause. Bokuto laughs. “What, detox?” He looks around desperately, holding up weak pale hands, veins visible even through his palms. “Come on, guys, it’s not like I’m doing meth.”

Kuroo lands a look on him, and Kageyama sees the words _You don’t know that_ in his gaze. “The only reason you’re not fixing right now is because of what’s left over in your system from that,” Kuroo says. He puts a hand out at the hallway.

“A few hours left,” Mattsun says. He must have done the math too.

“This weekend then.” Suga nods at himself. “We’ll cancel tomorrow’s show.” Kuroo considers reacting, but Suga eyes him down. “That’s final.” He looks at the others for confirmation.

Bokuto slumps down in his chair. Everybody talks around him, and Kageyama listens because he can’t think of anything else to say. He watches Bokuto pick up his glass again in shaking hands.

“Well, we can’t do it here,” Kuroo says.

Mattsun puts his hand on his head. “Landlord weekend.”

“Damn it.” Suga leans back in his chair and crosses his arms harder.

“Do we even know how to deal with this?” Mattsun asks.

“It’s not going to be like the movies,” Akaashi says, louder again. They turn to him—even Bokuto, an empty presence. “It’s not like heroin or something. He won’t be writhing on the ground and throwing up. The Adderall and whatever was in those pills—it’s an upper. That means his withdrawal will be,” he motions at his head, “up here. If he’s been taking as much as I think he has, there’s a chance he’ll…” He trails off, and for the first time since they sat down, the anger in his expression crumbles into fear and his eyes glance sideways at Bokuto. He swallows, and his voice quiets down. “It’s emotional, not physical. It’ll be in his head. He might try again.” He takes a breath and sits up straighter, not looking any of them in the eye. “I have to watch over him. I’m not asking for your help.”

Suga immediately makes a face. “Bullshit, Keiji, don’t be high and mighty.”

“We want to help,” Kageyama says.

“No you don’t.”

Kuroo rolls his eyes. “Are you serious.”

“No, you’re right.” Kageyama hears himself talking and lets whatever part of him this is—the part that asked Hinata for his number, that questioned the purple bag, that knocked on the closed bedroom door in Roseneau, that ran to Bokuto’s body an hour ago, that ran a mile and a half in the height of summer to Bokuto’s house at sixteen years old the moment he got the text when Bokuto got the news. This minuscule courage that only comes around once in a while when he needs it to. He lets it finally do something.

“I _don’t_ ,” he says and leans closer to Akaashi. “I _wish_ I didn’t have to deal with this, to take my time out of my life to sweat my best friend out of addiction, or whatever mental equivalent he’ll have. I wish he—” He stops and looks at Bokuto. “I wish you didn’t do this to yourself, Bo. And I wish what happened to you hadn’t happened. But it did and _you_ did, and _this_ is going to happen, and I want to be there for you. We all do.”

He stops, lets the rest of his breath out, and grounds himself in his chair again.

Akaashi is quiet. Bokuto’s eyes begin to water.

With his nail between his teeth, Mattsun says, “We’re all he has.”

Suga nods slowly. “It’s less about his symptoms and more about, just…time. He needs time for it to get out and a place where he can’t get to it.”

“And where it can’t get to him,” Kuroo says.

Bokuto is crying now, silently. He rubs at his eyes with his fists.

Kageyama sighs and puts his arms on the table. “I have the time. My classes aren’t bad, I’ve only got two finals. I can take the weekend. I don’t have anything Monday.”

“I don’t care what I’m missing,” Akaashi says. “I’m there.”

Bokuto, choking, stares at him, but he doesn’t look back. Bokuto says, “Kaashi.”

“Quiet.”

“I—my tests are on Monday, two,” Mattsun says, “and then papers for Wednesday and Friday. I have a lot of…” He trails off and looks away from the table, pained.

“It’s okay,” Akaashi reassures him. “School. Life.”

“I’ll come by, I promise,” Mattsun says.

Akaashi nods. “Thank you.”

“Mattsun, you don’t have to—”

“Be quiet, Koutarou.” Akaashi pushes the glass toward him again. “Drink your water.”

Bokuto obeys with a hand wet with tears and shaking so badly that the water ripples.

Suga sighs. “I’m in the same boat with exams, and my senior paper is due and I’m getting prepared for commencement. So I’m sorry. I’ll be around. And we’ll all take him tonight.”

“Where?” Akaashi says. “My place isn’t big enough and the visitor rules are strict.”

“And not here unless we want to get evicted if something seems up,” Kuroo says.

An idea presents itself in Kageyama’s mind. Half of him can’t believe he’s thinking of it, but the other half knows there’s no other conclusion. The house is out, any dorms are out, Akaashi’s apartment is out and Suga’s roommate could materialize at any point. There’s only one option left.

“Um. It’s not a guarantee,” he says, “but I know where we might be able to take him.” He holds up his phone.

Suga shakes his head, but the look on his face says something else. “No way we can ask for that. We can’t take advantage of his kindness again. We already owe him way too much.”

“What choice do we have,” Kageyama says. “I mean…” He looks at his lock screen: the six of them outside the botanical garden, his tucked-in shirt and real pants, Suga’s silk and smile and highlight, Kuroo leaning coolly against the van with his boot propped, Mattsun’s glasses glinting and his thermos in his hand, Akaashi squinting in the sunlight, Bokuto grinning with a bandage around his ankle and his ribbon around the arm that’s wrapped over Akaashi’s shoulders. Kageyama says quietly, “The worst we can get is a no.”

Suga’s lips are parted, pausing there like he wants to use his morality, to follow the rules. He closes his mouth and says nothing. Bokuto brings his glass up again but decides to wipe his eyes and spills water on the table and floor. Mattsun stares at it, pushes up his glasses, and his fingernail is down to the bed and bloody. Kuroo gets up to find another towel.

“Ask,” Akaashi says. “Please.”

Kageyama stands from the table to make the call.


	20. 02:20

His music plays in his headphones while he walks, but he hardly hears a single word. His head is filled with images of Bokuto in the bathtub, Akaashi sitting on the wet tiles with no socks and his bike lying haphazardly in the grass because he didn’t take those few seconds to prop it when he got to the house, and Kuroo crying, and water spilling on the table, and a violent shade of purple, and scenes from a Porta Potty, and Bokuto is still just standing there with his flashlight on and if he doesn’t come back out soon then he’ll miss the set.

_Snap out of it, Tobio. Focus. This matters._

_Just…help me out, Shou._

Hinata is waiting inside the dorm hall lobby. Kageyama can see him through the glass when he walks up, sitting on a bench and bouncing a knee. When he sees Kageyama outside, he stands immediately and takes big steps to open the door. Kageyama takes his earbuds out and hooks them over his neck, but before he can say anything, Hinata hugs him. He holds more tears in and hugs Hinata back.

“I promise it’s not always like this,” he murmurs. “It’s all just bad timing.”

Hinata’s arms wrap around him tighter.

After a while, Hinata pulls away and says, “Come upstairs with me while I get my backpack ready.”

Kageyama blinks at him. “What?”

“I talked to Tadashi and it’s his place anyway. We’ll study together and, I don’t know, I’m a neurobio major—maybe I’ll have one thing that can help. Who knows.” He shrugs and puts his hands on Kageyama’s arms, rubbing his thumbs against his skin. “At the very least, I’ll be another person there for him,” Hinata says. “That’s probably what he needs most.”

Kageyama just says, “Shou.”

“Bokuto is your best friend,” Hinata says. “And from how you talk about him, he seems like a really sweet person. And a crazy drummer.” He smiles. “And I guess I just want to be there for you, too.”

Kageyama pulls him back into a hug because he can’t get the words _thank you_ to come out of his lungs. For a moment, he pretends that they’re meeting up now just because, that today wasn’t and isn’t real, that there aren’t three people back at the house right now worrying over this weekend when all they should have had to care about was school or writing music, and one more going through the pockets of multiple pairs of shorts while his boyfriend lies on his bed staring at the ceiling, getting muscle tremors and breathing down a scratched throat. And Kageyama is here, and even though Akaashi said he wanted time with Bokuto alone, and even though Suga said it’s fine he’s fine go see Hinata maybe you should get away for a second, the guilt still weighs heavily on Kageyama’s heart.

“I have to do something this time,” he mumbles into Hinata’s shoulder. “He has to get better. I want him to get better.”

Hinata rubs his back. “It’ll be okay. It might be hard, but we’ll figure it out.”

Kageyama breathes out and leans back. “Yeah.”

Hinata smiles a little up at him. “Okay, get ready. I’m about to break out the backpack again.”

“Any plan of action?” Hinata asks when they’re in his room. Fortunately, Tsukishima is still in classes.

Kageyama looks at him from the edge of Hinata’s bed. “You’re asking me.”

Hinata pulls out a pair of shorts from the dresser—the striped ones from back when things were still okay. “Don’t say that.” He looks at him. “Tactical avoidance is the last thing on your mind right now. Nobody expects you to be a psychiatrist or a doctor. Everybody is doing what they can.”

Kageyama shrugs. “I’m still just kind of freaking out.”

Hinata nods and puts the shorts in his maroon travel backpack. “I think that’s pretty acceptable, considering.” He smiles gently. “Since you feel bad about being here right now, too.”

He doesn’t say it in a mean way at all, but it still slaps Kageyama a little bit. He rubs his face where it landed. “Sorry. I’m—this is all really sudden. Half of me, like.” He lets his hands rest on his thighs. “Half of me expected this heroic wave to wash over me, but I saw him there and I was just…terrified.”

“That’s okay,” Hinata says. “Anyone would be seriously shaken up.”

“I ended up crying alone in Mattsun’s room,” Kageyama says. “Akaashi said he wanted a second to talk to Bo, or just be with him, you know. He wasn’t there when it happened.” Hinata nods like he understands or knows—he got a story from both Kageyama and Yamaguchi. “He took Bo’s money and I think his phone.”

“Maybe a good idea for this weekend. Keep that Daishou guy out of the picture.” Hinata finds a shirt.

Kageyama watches him. Hinata is more perceptive than he lets on, too. “Yeah. They’re getting ready to go to Tadashi’s later.” He sniffs. “I just…wanted to see you.”

Hinata zips the backpack closed—charger, study material, a book, clothing, toothbrush. Necessities for a weekend on house arrest, though he could leave whenever he wanted. The only one who can’t is Bokuto, and that means Kageyama won’t either, and he knows Akaashi is the same. He’s going to feel really shitty if they drive Yamaguchi out of his own apartment.

“I know you feel like you bother me by letting things out around me,” Hinata says, putting a hand on his hip. He checks his pocket for his phone then comes to sit on the edge of the bed too. “But you don’t.” He kisses Kageyama’s cheek. “The fact that you feel comfortable sharing your feelings with me makes me trust you equally in return.”

Kageyama looks over at him. “I think I trust you more than anyone.”

Hinata takes his hand and squeezes it. “He really should have gone to the hospital, you know.”

Kageyama nods. “Yeah.” But nobody told him to call an ambulance and he can’t make one vital decision on his own. He runs his other hand through his hair. “Yeah.”

“Or should be going to one.”

He stares at nothing. “Yeah. But he’s.”

Hinata chuckles. “A whackjob?”

Kageyama hums a little. “Yeah. The hospital thing…” He looks over at Hinata for a second, then down at his lap. “Like, when the accident happened with his parents, the ambulance took a long time to get there because of the traffic and who knows, they could have been gone already. They probably were even though they weren’t technically dead yet. And then, I don’t know. Bo says it was something about how when they were driving to the hospital, the EMTs didn’t do enough life-saving procedure, or something.” He sighs. “He’s crazy and he’s not a doctor, and we weren’t there, but either way I still believe him. There’s no reason for me not to.”

Hinata nods. “Sure, I understand,” he says in a soft voice.

Kageyama sniffs again. “We went to elementary, middle, and high school together. He’s been nuts the whole time and I love it—he’s the coolest guy to be around, and he’s so accepting of everybody and everything. It’s his greatest strength and a big weakness. He pretends he doesn’t trust so many things, but in the end, he’ll believe whatever you tell him, and he’s too trusting with everyone he knows in real life.” He pauses, shakes his hair at his forehead. “I was sixteen when it happened. I watched him graduate at the end of May, and we had a party with both of our parents and my sister and some friends. We were so proud of him because we knew he’d go to college, right? Like, his parents were young and poor when they had him, and they didn’t have that education, but he loves learning and he’s tenacious and his grades were above average, and he could get financial aid and maybe a scholarship and he _wanted_ to,” Kageyama says intensely. “He really meant to. And then he turned eighteen in June, and then a month later—” He snaps his fingers. “Gone. Everything.” He pushes at his bangs again. “The anniversary is coming up. Three years this July.”

Hinata looks down too. “I…get it. That must be a lot of why he’s…”

“Yeah. That was rock bottom for us. Like, I’m middle class and male and tall and live in a place with enough diversity to not be the odd one out. The extent of my life’s problems up until that point were my grades. But when _that_ happened?” He blinks at the floor. “That messed us up. All of us—my family, too. When we told Miwa what happened and that Bo would be staying with us for a while, she cried her eyes out, and it made Bo cry, and it was awful. And obviously it all affected him the most. _That_ was rock bottom. And now where are we?” He shrugs, feeling useless in this whole situation. “And it’s this dark backdrop for everything.” He gets an image in his head and does a weird, anxious giggle. “His life is basically one of Tendou’s paintings. Some monotone color all over the back and then, for three years, just more and more piled on top of it. All these little things and he has no control over any of it. And all these choices—all these small choices over the years and none of them mine to make. And I never did.”

Hinata laces their fingers together.

He takes a breath. “I know he had a lot of anger over it, and maybe still has some even though most of it just turned into, like, messed up. His parents were really good people. I spent probably a quarter of my life around them, too. He has a golden heart because of them.”

He sits there for a second, remembering Bokuto’s mother and father, and everything they did for both Bokuto and him over the years despite not being a family high in resources. Bokuto’s household never lacked in love.

Kageyama shakes his head. “How many hits can he take, you know? I guess he just took the critical one.”

“Well…” Hinata thinks. “He has a lot of potions.”

Kageyama blinks again. “Huh?”

“You know—potions. Like in Pokémon. To help get his health back.” Hinata counts on his hand. “You, Akaashi, Mattsun, Kuroo. Me and Tadashi. Maybe even Tsukki, since they can speak in German code with each other. Your family back home.” He tilts his head. “Isn’t that kind of the point? With addiction?”

Kageyama looks into his eyes, huge and colorful. “You…like Pokémon?”

Hinata laughs. “I beat _Moon_ in four days.”

Kageyama laughs too. “Took me two weeks.” He sighs again—the good kind, the relaxing kind. Hinata knows how to get him back out of his head. “You’re right. About what you said.” He looks down. “I was kind of mad at Bo recently, before this happened. When I found out about his pills and when we were talking last night, I was so frustrated with him. It crumbled when I realized that wasn’t the problem and being upset wasn’t going to do anything. It was wrong of me and—”

Hinata shakes his head at him as if to say _No. You had every right to react._

He nods. “It’s all, I don’t know. It all makes sense. It just sucks. I get the using and the freak-outs and the injuries and this. I hate it, but I get it.” The hate brings some anger back and he frowns. “But like, screw that. Screw me trying to be neutral and never saying anything because it’s his life. It’s _our_ lives together. He lost his autonomy the moment one of those pills was handed to him.” He feels the emotions welling up in his chest. “He still should be going to a hospital or, like, quick care or _something_. Who are _we_? We’re just a bunch of college kids who know about music and business and some architecture maybe. It’s stupid that he won’t go even though I know he’ll freak out if he does. Who knows what he’s gonna be like tonight and tomorrow and after this. We’re not equipped to handle it, are we? Finals are next week and we got invited to Atlanta for a professional show and a _record deal_.”

He’s starting to sound hysterical. Too many words keep coming out of his mouth. He keeps doing this around Hinata, but he’s just easy to open up to. But if Hinata means what he says, then he doesn’t mind, and isn’t judging him.

“Hey,” Hinata says, bringing his other hand up to enclose Kageyama’s between his. “Deep breath?”

_And you have those calming eyes. That whole calming face._

Kageyama stares at him. “Deep breath.” He takes one. “Sorry.”

“Listen. I know you say you never make decisions yourself, or that you do nothing, but you didn’t. From what Tadashi told me that you did for him, and this is coming from what you told _him_ which means it was already humble enough, you handled it really, really well. I bet Bokuto is extremely thankful that you were there for him. He might not be able to be thankful if you weren’t.”

Oh god.

Kageyama wants to just lie down and let it all pass, let summer roll in like it should when a school year is over. But he has to stop wanting to pretend that this isn’t real. He cried. Yamaguchi is preparing an apartment for someone he barely knows. Bokuto is a few hours into withdrawing, and it hasn’t really hit him yet but it will, and everything he’s been feeling for three years—that reared its head once when he tried to stop taking Adderall and was pushed away again and then shoved down with his switch to MDMA—is about to amplify for the whole crowd of them to see. Pretending isn’t going to work anymore. So Kageyama is just going to have to stop being such a spineless idiot and face it.

He says, “Yeah.”

Hinata leans over and kisses his cheek again. “It’ll be all right. We’ll figure it out,” he says. Then he cups a hand to his mouth, squints and looks sideways, and makes his voice conspiratorial and says, “And if it gets bad enough, we go to the freaking hospital anyway.”

Kageyama actually smiles. Hinata is just good. And kisses on the cheek don’t make things worse. “Yeah. You’re right. Okay.”

“Besides.” Hinata stands and faces him, still holding his hand, smiling back. “Tadashi grows a ton of herbs and probably knows traditional Chinese medicine or something, so. Literal potions.”

Kageyama laughs. Hinata has a good upward angle, but he probably has a good every angle. A fresh haircut, orange pieces everywhere, the comma over his forehead. “Thanks for calming me down, Shou,” Kageyama says.

Hinata pulls him to standing. Kageyama comes in front of him, looking down into his face. “Someone came to calm me down once and it really helped a lot,” Hinata says. “So I guess I can return the favor.”

_Oh my god, I like you._ “Oh my god, I like you.”

Hinata just nods like he knew all along. He smiles, lifting onto his tiptoes, and gives Kageyama a quick kiss. “All right.” He picks up his backpack and swings it onto his shoulder. “Let’s go figure it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next sections sort of run together, so I’ll be posting many at the same time. I'll probably do this two or three times. I'm also gearing up to very soon be posting my next work which has a huge place in my heart right now, so I'm kind of itching to have this all posted and available so I can just focus on the new one. So prepare for quick updates of multi-chapter chunks, I guess! And if you like Kuroken, keep an eye out for my new work!


	21. 04:10

They wait with each other in the dark at nine-thirty, standing on the ground floor of the apartment complex near where the Range Rover is parked. The light, high-class plant aura that usually surrounds the area is taken over by grey dusk, humidity, and circumstance. When they walked here together, Hinata held Kageyama’s hand despite it being clammy with anxiety.

“You know ‘Garden Terrace’?” Kageyama asks. “Our song?”

Hinata is leaning against a bike rack like he did outside The Room. He looks up at Kageyama, standing where he’s grounded himself on the sidewalk. “The pretty one,” he says.

“Yeah. The first time I ever walked around over here, when I first moved to the school, I was listening to the demo,” Kageyama tells him. “So now I always think of it when I’m around here. Tadashi’s place added, like,” he shrugs, “a vibe.”

Hinata laughs. “He’d like to hear that.”

“I can’t believe we’re making him do this,” Kageyama murmurs.

The van pulls into the lot before Hinata can say anything. When they park, Suga is the first one out. He steps out from the passenger front and goes to open the backseat door.

“Hey, guys,” Kageyama calls.

Suga looks over at him. “Hey. There’s a bag—”

“I got it.” Kuroo leaves the driver’s seat with the keys in his hand. All at once, it hits Kageyama that this is the first time Hinata has seen Kuroo since Roseneau. An uncomfortable feeling passes through him, but then he glances at Hinata next to him. He’s staring at the backseat door of the van, at Bokuto stepping out with a weak arm using Akaashi as a lifeline.

“God,” Hinata says. It comes out as a whisper as he stands up from the bike rack. “It’s only been six days since…he looks…”

“It was bad,” Kageyama says. “He looked like…” The image flashes in his mind of Bokuto lying in the bathtub before he got in with him, a limp mannequin all one color, his ribs showing, his baby blue shorts loose on his hips. He says again, “Bad.”

Hinata takes his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll text Tadashi we’re coming up.”

Kuroo starts walking toward them carrying the duffel that Akaashi and Bokuto share, and Kageyama realizes he didn’t bring a change of clothes.

The seven of them stand outside the door of the second-floor apartment—Kuroo and Mattsun in the back, avoiding things, Kageyama and Hinata with their backpacks in the middle with Bokuto and Akaashi next to them. Akaashi said it started to hit Bokuto an hour ago, more shaking, clenching his jaw. His face looks sunken in and fatigued, sleepless, and he sways on his feet unless Akaashi has his arm around his waist. The stairs took a long time to climb.

Their leader stands in front. Suga forgoes the brass loop to knock with a gentle fist.

Yamaguchi opens the door with a large fuzzy succulent in his arm. The heat—turned up a degree or two from last time—feels the same as outside. “Hey, I’m just finishing moving stuff around. Don’t mind the plants.”

The loft light is on, casting a faded wash over the whole room. A stick of incense burns on the counter, giving off a thin line of tea tree and mint. Two blankets are folded on the couch, and the space on the fluffy rug where they studied before has a few more. The cactus Hinata gave him is on the counter and the purple orchids on the table are still in bloom, but some of the plants are moved up to the second level, and for some reason it embarrasses Kageyama. The apartment is clean and it smells good and Yamaguchi has string lights around the lattice that he didn’t notice during the daytime, and it’s hard to understand right now if he should be trying to be positive and have a good attitude and outlook for this, or if he needs to be serious and take anything that comes out of Bokuto’s mouth like he’s about to drown again if he doesn’t hold him up.

“This place is really nice,” Mattsun says from the foyer.

“Thank you.” Yamaguchi puts his succulent on the counter. “I wasn’t sure how long you guys would be here, but I know you’re kind of—staying in.” Good way to put it. There are no plans to leave the apartment until this is over. “So I just got some blankets and stuff. Hope it’s okay.” He motions at the living area.

“You didn’t have to do anything,” Kageyama tells him.

Yamaguchi smiles. “Anything to make it easier.”

“This is the second time we owe you,” Suga says. “Probably more than that.”

Yamaguchi just shrugs it all off even though Kageyama knows this is probably a big deal for him the weekend before finals. There’s no reason he should house a withdrawing drug addict he hardly knows for a weekend, but apparently Yamaguchi is just like that. He says, “I’ll take a signed copy from everyone when the album releases, thanks.”

He’s just being nice, and he doesn’t know about the offer, but it’s another reminder of another decision they’ve yet to make. Suga glances at Kageyama; Mattsun in the back looks at the floor, arms crossed. But Kuroo sort of smiles, so he still must not know about the record offer or Atlanta either. And Suga still doesn’t know about Roseneau. And Bokuto is in the middle of a withdrawal.

_And you will not freak out right now, Tobio._

Hinata senses him and brushes the backs of their hands against each other.

Suga gives Yamaguchi one of his professional smiles. Kageyama is pretty sure it’s because he can’t do a real one right now. “If you still want anything to do with us after this, deal,” Suga says.

Akaashi begins walking Bokuto to the couch as Bokuto complains about the heat. Akaashi sits him down, ignoring him, and comes back over. “Can I get him some water?”

Bokuto whines that his throat still hurts and puts his hand in his empty pocket.

“There’s a full Brita in the fridge,” Yamaguchi tells him. “Help yourself to anything.”

Akaashi nods. “Do you happen to have a cup that’s not glass?”

Yamaguchi leads him into the kitchen.

“By the way, Hinata,” Suga says. He turns to them. “I wanted to thank you, too. He’ll be better off having a lot of people around.” He smiles a little and adds, “And I know Tobio appreciates the moral support.”

Kageyama’s ears heat up. “They’re onto us,” he stage-whispers to Hinata.

Hinata adjusts his backpack on his shoulder. “They’ve been onto you since you took me backstage.” Kageyama balks and Hinata smiles back at Suga. “No problem. Really. Tadashi is one of my best friends and Bokuto is one of yours.”

“And somehow Tobio got us all mixed up.” Suga runs his fingers through his hair, puts his hands on his hips, and sighs. He gazes over at Bokuto, melted back into the couch with his eyes closed and his jaw tight and too sharp. “Here’s hoping,” Suga mutters. He clears his throat and says, “Bokuto?”

Bokuto looks at them and puts on a grin. Even the divots of his dimples look deeper, concentrated shadow. “Koush?”

Suga laughs—a sad, singular exhale. “Be good, okay?”

Bokuto salutes. “Yes, ma’am, Miss Monroe.”

Suga shakes his head gravely. “We’ll come see you soon.”

Bokuto smiles so widely that his eyes close, and they don’t open again. He rests his head back on the couch.

Yamaguchi comes back over to them and Akaashi walks past to Bokuto, a big plastic cup in his hand that says KBU on it. It never really got into Kageyama’s head that their school color is purple. “Anything for you guys?” Yamaguchi asks.

“You’re already doing more than enough,” Suga says. “Just…thank you.”

“Thank you,” Mattsun calls.

They look over and Kuroo nods too. “We appreciate it.”

“We’ll see you guys tomorrow?” Kageyama asks.

Suga nods. “We’ll text you when we’re headed over, okay? Keep us updated.” He looks at Hinata and Yamaguchi again. “Do I have your numbers in my phone?”

They take their phones from their pockets.

Kageyama looks at Mattsun, sending nervous glances at Bokuto sitting there chipping at his nail polish with his eyes still closed. Kageyama goes over to him. “It’s okay,” he says emptily.

Mattsun breathes in. “Just fix it. He’s getting weird.”

“It’s hitting him,” Kuroo says, and they both nod. “Tonight will probably be the worst.”

“What do those fake drugs do, anyway?” Kageyama asks him.

Kuroo just looks at him and it says the same thing as before: _Like hell if I know, man._ “I feel like he’s just gonna be…” He looks at Bokuto from behind his bangs. Kageyama had never seen him cry before and probably never will again. “Fucking sad.”

Mattsun looks too. “Am I allowed to talk to Hiro about this?”

_With that nickname? Of course._ “Whatever you need, dude,” Kageyama tells him.

Mattsun crosses his arms tighter. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything. Don’t let him.”

Kageyama is nineteen years old, an architecture major by random choice, who wears almost solely hoodies and takes pictures for a band. He’s not supposed to be doing this, making promises. But he’s Bokuto’s best friend. He says, “I won’t.”

The last thing he sees when they’re leaving for the van with Suga is Kuroo reaching for the cigarettes in his pocket.

Yamaguchi shuts and locks his door. He turns back to them. “Okay. Night one.” He tilts his head toward the living room. “Have you guys had dinner?” he asks, glancing at Akaashi on the couch next to Bokuto.

Kageyama shakes his head. He puts his backpack down on the rug with Hinata’s.

Bokuto tells the whole apartment that he’s not hungry, and Akaashi tells him he’s too loud, this isn’t a house anymore, drink it.

“Let’s not do Chinese or Tobio will explode,” Hinata says, settling on the rug with Yamaguchi and his gold Macbook decorated with stickers of plants and alternative bands. Hinata smiles up at Kageyama.

The faded light from the loft paints over Hinata’s skin. The string lights drape over the couple on the couch and the plants and incense smell nice, and Bokuto has taken the cup of water in his shaking hands. Maybe this won’t be that bad.

He turns to look at the door again, at the lock Yamaguchi twisted shut. Maybe it’s only night one.

He sits down next to Hinata. “Good call.”

Bokuto coughs, choking on his water. He makes a face and looks around at them. “You guys don’t really have to stay overnight, do you? Won’t you be uncomfortable?”

They all turn to him at same time and he leans back.

“You can’t leave until you’re done, dude,” Kageyama says.

Bokuto looks into his water. “I wouldn’t do that. Right, I wouldn’t do that.”

“You can’t,” Akaashi tells him.

Bokuto stares at the ripples. “Well…wouldn’t it be better if we weaned it off?”

He had power before—his smile, his eyes, his past. Anything for him. But not anymore.

Hinata opens his mouth to say something right, something educated and subjective, but Akaashi speaks first.

“Nice try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've put up the first chapter of my next fic, if anybody is interested! Like I said before, it's KuroKen (and a bunch of other ships), a restaurant AU, full book length (I haven't finished the last few chapters, but I'm estimating somewhere around 120-130k). If you want to take a look, here's the link!
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/26034181/chapters/63308455
> 
> Thank you again to everybody here! If you check out Tiger's Eye, I hope you enjoy it! <3


	22. 05:15

Bokuto lies upside down on the couch with his legs hooked onto the back and his head hanging off, his cheeks splotchy red and his hair flopped upward with the roots growing in black. Akaashi is holding a burrito bowl in his hand and just looking at it, sending his irritation at the rice instead of his boyfriend.

Hinata glances at him, glances at Kageyama, glances back down at his phone. “Um. A decorative design movement pioneered by architects such as Guimard, Horta, and Gaudi in the late nineteenth to early twentieth century.” He looks up from the Quizlet for the answer.

Kageyama clears his throat. “Uh. Beaux-Arts?”

Hinata taps the card and shakes his head. “Art Nouveau. Right time period though.”

Art history kind of blows. He’s more into the hands-on design courses anyway. He shoves an entire slice of quesadilla in his mouth.

“Tobio’s on a roll,” Yamaguchi says. He holds up a five with one hand, taco in the other. Aka, five questions incorrect in a row.

Kageyama sighs and says through a mouthful, “I’m nervous, okay?” Hinata pats his shoulder consolingly.

“When is the Atlanta trip?” Bokuto asks again. He already asked like thirty minutes ago but he probably forgot. He’s been busy air drumming to something in his head, socked feet playing kick and hi-hat, but his movements are weak and spasmodic and his body looks really flat, like it’s just been placed there on the couch.

“It’s in two weeks if we go,” Akaashi mutters.

If they go. As far as Kageyama knows, the stats are still an even two-two-two amongst them. If Mattsun decided yes, or if Suga made his choice, he has no idea. Suga is a great leader, singer, student, and person, but he’s not very brave. If he had told Kuroo about it yet, they would know already. How long do they have left to tell that Ukai guy?

“We’re gonna make a freaking _album_ ,” Bokuto tells the ceiling. “And get rich and go to Taipei.”

They tried to give him a book to read—Hinata offered his, and Yamaguchi offered one called _Plant Sensing and Communication,_ which seemed right up Bokuto’s alley—but he couldn’t concentrate.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?” Yamaguchi asks him.

Bokuto hits an inaudible riff and slides off the couch a little bit. “Nah, dude.”

Akaashi shakes his head at the rug. Kageyama can tell that he’s mad about his lack of control over things. Being upset is stealing his appetite too—he’s hardly eaten any of what he ordered.

Akaashi can get Bokuto to drink—probably because his body is thirsty, which Suga said Google said is a big side effect. But he hasn’t been able to coax any food into Bokuto, which is apparently also a side effect, and honestly Kageyama didn’t need Google to tell him either of those things after the past few weeks. He and Bokuto used to order extra-large pizzas and finish them in ten minutes back in high school. Bokuto also used to not be able to keep his hands off of Akaashi for a second if they were next to each other, and at any other time he would be trying to Spiderman kiss him from where he’s upside down like that, but that’s not happening now either. The last time Kageyama saw Bokuto actually put food in his mouth was Roseneau. The last time he saw him touch Akaashi was when he was high.

Bokuto starts humming. In his ruined throat, it sounds terrible.

“Okay, so, describe Beaux-Arts then,” Yamaguchi suggests, trying to get back on it.

“Um.” Kageyama rubs his face. He can hear every shift Bokuto’s skin makes on the leather couch as he drums. “I literally can’t remember right now. Let’s go to the next question. If it’s multiple choice on the test, I’ll get it.”

“Let’s hope,” Hinata teases. Kageyama nudges him. “Okay, next card.”

Bokuto starts singing a song by Roar, one Kageyama recognizes.

_I can’t handle change_

_Nothing I do is ever good_

_Nothing I do is ever good enough_

He’s dissonant.

Akaashi keeps staring at the bowl in his hands.

Kuroo’s shirt is a size too big and Bokuto’s hipbones are exposed, and the string lights are cutting weird shadows out of them like rocks in a pale desert. Kageyama averts his eyes from them as Bokuto is singing to leave him alone and that he wants to go home now. Hinata and Yamaguchi both glance at Kageyama, and he doesn’t even know where to look.

“Next card?” he asks as fast as he can.

Hinata looks at his screen. “Actually, that’s the last one.”

“Is there another set?” _Distract me, Shou._

Hinata understands and starts scrolling.

Kageyama doesn’t play drums, but he’s pretty sure that whatever is going on with Bokuto’s limbs right now isn’t correct.

He’s still singing, yelling almost.

_I can’t help but repeat myself_

_I know it’s not your fault_

_Still lately I begin to shake_

_For no reason at all_

He breaks into the guitar riff prematurely, lips stuck out as he mimics it. His face is turning red, but rushes of blood to the brain can’t replace serotonin. Hinata says that’s what’s affected in depression, and since he’s the neurobio major, Kageyama believes him.

“Anything?” Yamaguchi tries again.

“Yeah,” Hinata says. He glances at Akaashi. “More definitions if—”

“That’s fine.” Kageyama takes an anxious bite. If Bokuto wasn’t so loud it wouldn’t seem so chaotic. If Akaashi wasn’t making that face then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Bokuto stops very suddenly and says he has a headache.

“You’ve been upside down for an hour,” Kageyama squeezes out.

“And you need to eat something,” Akaashi says.

“I’m not _hungry_ , baby,” Bokuto singsongs, turning his face toward him then away.

Akaashi lets out a breath. Kageyama can actually see the fire.

It’ll come to a peak eventually and then break off, but until then, Bokuto has residue leftover from however many months he was taking those pills, and he’ll be even more unpredictable than his already fickle emotional and behavior traits. If it was anyone’s idea to not take him to the hospital besides his own, they wouldn’t be in this apartment right now.

“Oh.” Bokuto sits up. He looks at them with a calmness falling over his features. “Guys, Daishou’s on tonight.” He stands up from the couch and starts walking toward the front door.

Akaashi, cross-legged, puts his food down, pushes up onto his knees, and grabs Bokuto’s wrist.

Bokuto turns around, wrenches himself free from Akaashi’s grasp, and says down at him, “Can you fucking let go of me?”

It punches Kageyama in the stomach. It’s the worst thing he’s ever done or said to Akaashi. It can’t be him. The real Bokuto is stuck somewhere else, and this isn’t him—it’s a fake replica shoddily made of cheaper parts and chemicals. He would never do this.

Akaashi looks up at Bokuto and says, even and flat, “Don’t talk to me that way. We’re not at the house, you’re not going to work, and you’re never meeting Daishou again.”

Bokuto stands looking down at him with suspicion in his eyes. One of his hands is squeezing in a fist by his side, over and over, like he can’t control it and doesn’t even notice. He would never.

Suga mentioned something about paranoia.

“Just sit down, Bo,” Kageyama says. His voice cracks.

Bokuto looks at him, then back at Akaashi. He walks back to the couch and sits again, staring at him with intense eyebrows until he finally lies down and decides to close his eyes.

It’s ten thirty-five. They’re only a few hours in. Is this going to work?

Kageyama looks at Akaashi. His nose and upper cheeks are red. If _he_ cries then things are really going down, but somehow Kageyama knows he won’t. “You okay, Akaashi?”

Akaashi composes himself. He blinks a few times, straightens his shoulders. Maintains his usual façade and sits crisscross again, his back against the couch by Bokuto’s legs. “Let’s get back to studying.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause before Hinata says, “It’s kind of late, huh? Maybe—let’s take a break for tonight.” He looks around, asking.

Kageyama glances back at Bokuto. His eyes are still closed, hair in his face, shoulders tensed up, grinding his teeth. He probably can’t hear any of them over what’s going on in his head. He mumbles something about adventuring in Taipei.

Hinata nods at his own suggestion. “We should get some sleep soon.”

“Yeah,” Yamaguchi agrees. “Uh, Akaashi. Would you mind helping me clean up? I could use, um, we can take the trash out.”

Akaashi nods and stands with him. And later, when the door opens and Akaashi walks out, Bokuto doesn’t move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yeah, it’s that song from tiktok. Roar has some good music. The bassline in “I Can’t Handle Change” is really nice.)


	23. 07:20

_SATURDAY_

* * *

It’s the second time Kageyama has woken up, dipping in and out of shallow sleep. Yamaguchi has thin white curtains over the big window, and the streetlight outside puts the room in a grey-orange haze. When he checks his phone, it’s past midnight. He’s sweating in his stupid yellow shirt under one blanket. Hinata lies next to him on the floor, breathing slowly, more comfortable with Yamaguchi’s apartment.

He sits up and blinks around in the dark. Akaashi’s phone is lighting his face with a blueish glow. “You should sleep,” he whispers from the couch.

Kageyama pushes his hair back, then leans onto his hands. He uses Mattsun’s line: “You’re telling me.”

“I got some rest. He’s my responsibility.”

_Yeah, Akaashi, a power nap is gonna work_. He sniffs, looking around and up at Yamaguchi’s loft where he’s hopefully getting a perfectly average amount of rest. “Good try. How is he?”

Akaashi looks at Bokuto’s form while Kageyama’s eyes adjust. Bokuto is laying there sideways, his head on a throw pillow, frowning in his sleep. His blanket is half off of him and his toes keep curling up in his socks. “Twitchy,” Akaashi says.

Kageyama hums. They sit there for a second. “Couch comfortable?” he asks.

“More comfortable than this rug.” Hinata pushes up onto his elbows next to him and rubs the fuzz underneath him. “It is soft, though.”

Kageyama looks down at the messy shape of his hair. He puts his hand on Hinata’s back for a moment and instantly gets nervous about it before he remembers he can do that now. “Hey.”

Hinata looks up at him. “Anything happening? What time is it?”

“One pretty soon. And not really.”

“He’s sleeping?”

Akaashi looks at Bokuto again. “I can’t tell. He’s either dreaming a lot or still awake.”

Kageyama wonders what Bokuto’s dreams would be like right now. He already has strange dreams, swore he had sleep paralysis when he was in ninth grade and then forgot about it. He went through a few weeks of their junior summer with a recurring dream of driving on a highway and getting off at an exit that he recognized in the dream but that didn’t exist, and that always led to something bad, but he never got there and he’s never even had a license and it freaked him out for a while. Who knows what this is doing in there. The inside of Bokuto’s head is a lot bigger than everyone else’s.

He twitches again—his leg kicks out, and the blanket tries slipping off him completely. Akaashi reaches over to catch it, but Bokuto breathes in and starts sitting up. He rubs his eyes with his fists and then puts his hand in his pocket. His brow furrows. He tries the other pocket. He says, groggy, “Where is it?”

“Where’s what, Bokuto?” Hinata asks in this unsuspecting voice.

Bokuto stands up rapidly. The blanket falls to the floor as he starts checking his pockets again. “Where did I put them?”

“Calm down,” Akaashi says.

Hinata touches Kageyama’s arm, but he’s staring at Bokuto and his little terrycloth shorts and his thighs that used to look like he’s a drummer. The night has everything shrouded, but somehow he still looks really pale and lanky like some freakish strung-out specter. Like if he looked directly at Kageyama right now, his eyes would be glowing orange.

_Tell me I’m dreaming, Shou. Tell me this is all just a dream._

“His pills,” he mutters to answer Hinata’s question. His voice comes out quieter than he meant, as if something terrible would happen if this version of Bokuto heard him.

Bokuto pulls his shorts off and shakes them around, standing there in his underwear.

“Jesus, Koutarou, calm down,” Akaashi says again. Kageyama doesn’t like what’s happening to his voice. It makes him wonder what would have happened if Akaashi was there yesterday when he found Bokuto on his bedroom floor, but it’s really not something he wants to think about. Maybe it was better that Akaashi wasn’t.

“Did I—I didn’t bring any?” Bokuto asks.

“You can’t,” Akaashi tells him. “It’s gone.”

Bokuto looks over at him. The suspicion from before is gone too. “What?”

“It’s gone. You took all of it.”

Bokuto looks slapped in the face by this information. He just stares at Akaashi for a long time with these ridiculous huge eyes. Kageyama doesn’t know what to do. The hand Hinata put on his arm is tighter now and Hinata is up on his knees, alert.

Bokuto says, “But.”

Akaashi shakes his head. “You took all of it.”

“Then I have to see Daishou.”

“You can’t.”

“But I got used to it.”

“You took it all. Put your shorts back on.”

Bokuto smacks a hand to his forehead like he’s remembered something vastly important. “Kaashi, where’s my prescription?”

Hinata looks over at Kageyama, asking. Kageyama shakes his head.

Akaashi sighs. “You don’t have a prescription, Koutarou. You bought your Adderall, too.”

The shorts hang there in Bokuto’s hand. “That’s not true, babe. That’s just not true.”

“You stole it once. Put your shorts on.”

Bokuto recoils, his hands bringing the shorts up to his chest. “I stole it?” He looks down, thinking. “Yuuji.” He shoves the shorts against his face. “The new guy. Oh, no. I have to apologize. I have to give it back.”

That was more than a year ago. Terushima hadn’t been new for a long time, and hasn’t been working there for months. He left that restaurant as fast as he could.

Akaashi, again: “You took all of it.”

“ _What?_ ”

From where he’s sitting on the floor, Kageyama can see Bokuto’s face starting to scrunch up, the corners of his mouth twitching down. Next to him, Hinata relaxes back onto his heels in this dejected way that makes things worse.

“Terushima moved to Nevada last year,” Kageyama says. “He went with his roommates, remember?”

When Bokuto looks at him, the tears welling in his eyes catch light from somewhere Kageyama doesn’t know and begin glowing. It scares him, but then Bokuto closes his eyes and falls back onto the couch in a slump, clutching his empty shorts in one fist. “What’s wrong with me.”

A light clicks on from the loft—Yamaguchi’s bedside lamp. He comes to the railing in shorts and a big tee and peers down at them. “Is everything okay?”

_Not really, Tadashi, but thanks for checking_. At least Bokuto isn’t angry anymore.

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, because Akaashi is just looking at Bokuto. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“We’re okay,” Hinata says. “He’s okay.”

“Anyone need anything?” Yamaguchi asks. He’s too nice for this mess they’ve dragged him into.

“We’re good,” Kageyama says. “Thank you. Really.”

Yamaguchi yawns. “Okay. Get some rest, you guys, sheesh.” He waves them goodnight and the light turns off again.

“Seriously,” Kageyama says at Akaashi. “At least another power nap.”

He’s still looking at Bokuto, waiting for something else to happen, but Bokuto is just lying there breathing, maybe crying, but it’s too dark to know. “We’ll see,” Akaashi says.

There’s nothing else Kageyama can say.

Hinata gives his arm a squeeze and Kageyama realizes he hasn’t moved since he sat up. His wrists are hurting from leaning on them. He forces a smile for Hinata and gathers his blanket.

“I actually think it’s getting better,” Hinata whispers when he lies down.

Whatever better means.

He finds Hinata’s hand.


	24. 09:45

He awakens for the third time. His neck hurts from being turned sideways. His hand is still covered by Hinata’s on the floor between them.

3:05 a.m. He was dreaming about a birthday party and there was a purple cake.

He hears a sound—the heating, or Yamaguchi moving, or maybe he’s just imagining things. Something is hanging in the air and he can feel the strangeness on his skin, the agitation coming off of Bokuto’s body like heat waves off a roof in summer, and when he looks around there are silhouettes of plants everywhere, surrounding him. When he looks over at the couch, Akaashi has his phone off and his eyes closed, and Bokuto’s blanket is on the floor again because he isn’t there.

Does bad energy scare the plants? Bokuto is one of those witching hour people.

Kageyama gets up and lets his feet take him to the kitchen. He hears Suga singing in his head:

_Creaking on the stairs_

_Static in the air_

_Don’t believe the sounds you hear_

_Cause everybody dies_

Bokuto is standing by the counter holding a knife. His hand is shaking so badly that he probably wouldn’t be able to do it anyway.

Kageyama suddenly realizes for the first time that for the rest of Bokuto’s life, his June birthday is going to be overshadowed by the July anniversary.

What day is it?

Kageyama stares at him. “Put it away, dude.”

“We’re going to die,” Bokuto says. “The six of us? We’re all gonna die.”

“Not yet.”

“Yamaguchi will live forever. He has plants. All I have is a drumkit.”

“You have us.”

A pause in the dark. “Do you think they really freeze people?” Bokuto asks in a whisper. “They can actually do it?”

Kageyama says, “I don’t know.”

“Am I dreaming?”

_I don’t know_. “No.”

“Do you think I’ll wake up?”

_I said I don’t know. I hope so_. “Yeah.”

Bokuto shifts and the knife reflects. “I don’t. I just make everyone worry.”

“That’s not true,” Kageyama says. His heart is beating really slow. “That’s just not true.”

“I wish it had worked.”

“Put it away, Bo.” If he doesn’t do it, Kageyama might scream.

Bokuto does. He turns back to Kageyama in the dark, emptyhanded, and says, “I want to go home.”

Kageyama wonders if he’s not talking about the house.


	25. 12:00

“Shou, are you awake?”

Hinata hums, tugs his blanket closer up to his face and wiggles into it. “Mm.” He sniffs. “Are you better?”

Kageyama tilts his head. “Huh?” he whispers.

“You passed out.” Hinata opens his eyes and looks up at him. “From the adrenaline. You were already nearly lying down, though. You almost hit your head.” He smiles. “I saved you.”

He hardly even remembers. “Shou.”

“And yes, I’m awake. I woke up before you because I have to stay ahead, remember?”

Kageyama lies there propped on his elbow. He looks down into Hinata’s eyes and admires him for the millionth time. He could kiss him a million times too, bring his hand up and touch Hinata’s cheek and his lips and just lean down, but not right now. Something is wrong. “Are you cold?” he asks.

Another hum and Hinata shrugs. “Yeah.” But then his brows go down and he starts to sit up. “Wait.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama says.

When he turns to look, Akaashi is asleep upright, a deep frown on his face and his arms crossed tight over his chest. Bokuto is on his back, Kuroo’s shirt hooked over the back of the couch, no blanket, one arm on his bare stomach and the other hanging off the couch, still pale in the grey haze. A kind of hysterical apprehension starts creeping into Kageyama’s mind because maybe Bokuto actually did it—maybe Kageyama will look closer and things will reveal themselves in the dark, and instead of Bokuto’s ankle bleeding it’s his wrists, all the way out onto Yamaguchi’s fuzzy carpet and he’s not actually sleeping but dead.

“Bo?” He’s choking a little.

Akaashi’s head moves.

“It’s okay.” Hinata puts a hand on his back. “I can hear him breathing.”

“What—why is it freezing in here?” Akaashi’s voice is thick with poor sleep. He sits up straighter and looks at them. “Did Yamaguchi turn it down?”

“He wouldn’t,” Hinata says.

Akaashi angles toward Bokuto. “Hey.” He shakes one of Bokuto’s legs. “Hey. Wake up.”

Bokuto moans. He rubs his eye, moves his hand over his ribcage. “Huh.”

“Did you turn the air down?”

A lip stuck out and a childish frown and Bokuto covers his face with his arms. “Huh?”

“Stop acting like that and sit up.”

Nothing.

“Sit _up_.”

Bokuto startles intensely. He sits up quickly with the sound of his skin peeling away from the leather. “What? Babe, what?”

“Did you turn the air down,” Akaashi says again.

Bokuto looks at all of them with alarm on his face. “The air? It was hot.”

The loft light flicks on again.

“Dude.” Kageyama tugs his blanket over his shoulders.

Akaashi runs a hand over his hair. His voice comes out exhausted. “Koutarou. This isn’t your house.”

“What?”

Footsteps come down the stairs. Yamaguchi appears halfway down and just looks at them. Cast over by the light above, this is a different version of him too. “How long has it been cold?”

They all look at Bokuto.

He stares over at Yamaguchi. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, Bokuto,” Hinata says. “When did you turn it down?”

His voice is soothing, and somehow he never sounds patronizing. He doesn’t sound frustrated either, and something in Kageyama starts to think that Akaashi needs to change his strategy if he has any idea how to. He could learn from Hinata how to be a good communicator.

Bokuto blinks at Hinata. “I don’t know. Two hours?”

Yamaguchi pauses for a second and then says, “I know you’re hurting, but you need to get a grip.”

Bokuto puts a hand on the middle of his chest and starts scratching.

“I keep it hot for a reason,” Yamaguchi says, going into the hallway. “I keep species that thrive best in moderately warm temperatures, not too dry, not too wet, all the time. They’re house plants. What else?” Kageyama sees the thermostat light up green and Yamaguchi sighs. “It’s higher than sixty-two on purpose. I know it’s not super comfortable, and thank you for not complaining, but don’t touch it again.” He turns the dial up twelve or eighteen, Kageyama figures. Yamaguchi may be one of the most accommodating people he’s ever met, but he still cares a hell of a lot about his plants. And he has every right to be stressed out.

Bokuto is sitting on the edge of the couch now. He keeps scratching slowly at his chest while his other hand clutches tight onto the edge of the leather.

“Plus, air conditioning costs a lot of money,” Yamaguchi says. “My family is wealthy but I still care about my finances.” Kageyama hears the heating come on, and Yamaguchi comes into the living room and turns on the light. They all squint except for Bokuto who’s looking at the floor and making this big rash on his skin with his nails. Yamaguchi goes to his orchids, gingerly touching their petals. “And orchids can be really sensitive.” He sighs again and lowers his hand. “You’re lucky I’m a good botanist.”

“I can’t hear you,” Bokuto says.

Yamaguchi turns to him.

Akaashi bristles. “Are you kid—”

“Kaashi, I can’t hear.” He’s staring, scratching, digging into the leather. “I can barely hear anything.”

All of the color leaves Yamaguchi’s face.

_Oh no. Bo._

This happened to Mattsun once, at the end of their last semester. It isn’t usually how his episodes go; he mostly just has nausea and dread. But Bokuto won’t stop scratching at his chest—clawing now.

“Koutarou,” Akaashi says. He doesn’t look angry anymore.

Bokuto says, “My chest.”

“I think he’s having a panic attack,” Hinata tells them. He stands up, blanket slipping off of his shoulders.

“Oh my god,” Yamaguchi says. He looks over at Kageyama and his face reads _My fault_.

Kageyama shakes his head at him.

When he looks back at Bokuto, his eyebrows are terrified and he’s drawing in a strained breath. His hand is a talon against his chest, surrounded by red, a pool of heat in a pale landscape. Akaashi sits there frozen, and Kageyama is really glad he wasn’t there yesterday when Bokuto tried the first time. He talks a big game and can make all the threats he wants in hindsight, but in the moment like right now, Akaashi’s façade doesn’t hold. He cares too. Maybe more than any of them.

Kageyama should be getting up. This should be nothing after what happened yesterday, but it’s usually Suga who helps when Mattsun is having a panic attack if he’s there; Kageyama just fumbles around for the Xanax if he’s not because Mattsun knows what to do. But even if they had a Xanax right now, he’s not sure anybody would give one to Bokuto.

“Hey. Bokuto.”

Kageyama focuses back in on that voice: Hinata, kneeling in front of Bokuto with a gentle hand on his knee.

“What are you feeling?” Hinata says. “Can you hear me?”

Bokuto’s whole body trembles while he tries to breathe. “I’m having a heart attack.”

“No, it’s okay, you’re—”

“I don’t wanna die.” He starts crying. “Please, I don’t want to die.”

“Has he ever panicked before?” Hinata asks the room.

Akaashi just shakes his head really small. Kageyama says, “Never.”

Hinata gets on both knees and puts his hands on Bokuto’s upper arms. Kageyama realizes then that Bokuto still doesn’t have a ribbon because they never cut him a new one like they told him they would.

“Deep breaths, okay?” Hinata says. “We’re all here in Tadashi’s apartment. Try to relax. You’re having a panic attack.”

Bokuto takes heavy, difficult breaths. “Mattsun gets anxiety attacks.”

“And he’s okay, right?” Hinata asks.

Bokuto nods. “He’s worried about me.”

“Well.” Hinata glances at Kageyama but then lets it go. “You’re going to be fine. What are you worried about?”

“I’m gonna die.” Tears drip over his cheeks, falling from his chin.

“You’re not going to die. It’s—”

“I was going to kill myself last night. I _thought_ about it. I’m gonna _die._ ”

Akaashi’s eyes flick over to Kageyama. His cheeks start turning red again. Kageyama doesn’t know what to say or do, so he tries to tell Akaashi with his eyes that he was awake for it, but he doesn’t know if the message comes across at all.

Hinata thinks for a moment. “It’s—but you didn’t. And you’re here now, and everyone’s here with you. Take another deep breath. As deep as you can.”

Bokuto draws one in too high in his chest, but it’s something. He nods again and the hand over the red mark on his chest flattens out some. “I hate this. I fucking hate this.”

“It’s okay,” Kageyama says pathetically.

“I did this,” Bokuto says.

“No, you didn’t,” Hinata says firmly. “Life did what it did and it isn’t your fault. You’ll get through this, and we’re going to help you figure things out. You’re going to be okay.”

First taking care of Kageyama, now Bokuto. Hinata is good. He’s brave and he cares and the difference is that he _does_ something.

Bokuto closes his eyes and keeps crying. “I’m really really sorry.” His hands come off his chest and the couch and cover his face instead.

Hinata looks to Akaashi. “He just needs comforting. Do you want to…” He leans back a little.

Akaashi blinks at him, blinks at Bokuto. “Yeah. Yeah.” He moves closer, putting a hand on Bokuto’s back. “Hey.” He starts to bring the other hand up toward the red splotch to brush his fingertips over it, but he can’t. He pulls the hand away. “Koutarou. It’s okay.”

Bokuto looks through teary eyes at him. He grabs desperately for Akaashi’s hand and Kageyama feels a massive relief when Akaashi takes it.

Hinata stands up and combs his fingers through his hair.

“I’m—” Yamaguchi is standing there with this guilty look on his face. “I’ll get some tissues or something.” He moves toward the kitchen.

“It’s okay,” Kageyama calls to him. “Just—bad timing.”

Yamaguchi doesn’t answer. He glances at Bokuto again before turning away.

Hinata sits down crisscross next to Kageyama on the rug. “It’s beginning to end now.”

“Shou,” Kageyama says. “We’re all…” he shakes his head, “just idiots.”

Hinata sighs. “No, you’re just not used to this.”

“Do they teach this in neurobio?”

Hinata relaxes, hands in his lap. “Tsukki used to get them. He had bad anxiety back in high school.”

“Really? But he’s, like.”

Hinata chuckles. “Mhm.”

Kageyama blinks. “How did he change it?”

Hinata smiles at him. “He started seeing a therapist.”

He looks at Akaashi holding Bokuto’s hand, rubbing his back. “Right.” Looks at the curtains over the big window and wonders when sunrise is. “Well. Good morning.”

Hinata leans his head on his shoulder.


	26. 16:10

**_Kageyama_ ** _: and now he’s basically ok, just sad. shaking a lot_

**_Suga_ ** _: Jesus_

It took around forty minutes for Bokuto to come out of it. His breathing is under control, the red mark fading from his chest, and he’s not talking about dying anymore, though Kageyama can’t hear his thoughts. When he stopped crying, he laid down and looked into Kageyama’s eyes from across the room when the sun still hadn’t even come up, and Kageyama could see in his head the knife in Bokuto’s quivering grip at three a.m. Bokuto kept clutching his blanket closer to himself and sending apologies out from golden irises, and Kageyama had to just let them float over and die in his hands because it’s not okay.

Any sleep was superficial and they’re all exhausted. His _hit me, I can take it_ attitude keeps waning with his neutrality. He would have mentioned the knife situation to Akaashi, but it’s probably better to not talk about it in front of Bokuto.

Bokuto keeps giving Akaashi these pathetic, plaintive smiles, and the only consolation is Akaashi’s hand on him so he won’t freak out anymore. Kageyama keeps thinking about Akaashi climbing up onto Bokuto’s bed when they’re hanging out and just kissing the side of his head, and doing the chin thing and smiling at him like he does with nobody else. It all seems far away from now.

_Just, I don’t know,_ he thinks. _Hug him or something._

Akaashi is probably too tired, and from a lot more than just last night.

But it’s day two. Kuroo and Hinata were right and the worst is over. But just because Bokuto is on the upswing of his withdrawal doesn’t mean he’s fixed. The real problem isn’t gone yet. He needs to deal with the root of everything.

Their next step: get inside that never-ending head of his.

Kageyama’s phone clock turns to 9:30. Another text comes through.

**_Suga_ ** _: Okay, that’s better I guess. Thank you for bringing me up to speed. We’ve been worried about him_

_Me too. I still am. He just liked to feel happy, and now what? This was the easy part._

He spent half an hour telling Suga about everything that happened, watching him lose it over text and pull himself together again. Kageyama really hopes they come over today and bring some good energy or all the plants are going to wilt away. It would be the worst metaphor.

**_Kageyama_ ** _: no problem_

**_Suga_ ** _: Issei has been having trouble concentrating, but he’ll feel better hearing that the worst is over_

Kageyama slumps back against the wall, body hurting from sleeping on the rug and all the adrenaline. He doesn’t even know if he can complain when Mattsun and the guys were at home with no knowledge at all; Bokuto could have been suffering on the floor or gone totally psychotic or just dead for all they knew, for all any of them knew of what was in those pills he’s been taking all this time. A hurt back and stiff neck are nothing.

_No, Tobio. You found him with a knife in his hand. You found him unconscious, overdosing, burning to death alone in his room. You have the right. We all have every right._

**_Suga_ ** _: But Bo has more to do bc this was like_

**_Suga_ ** _: A symptom_

**_Suga_ ** _: Anyway, are you doing okay?_

Kageyama looks up. Bokuto has the plant sensing book from Yamaguchi, looking at the pages but not really reading much. Akaashi is looking at his phone but not actually caring. Bokuto is tense and desperate for him, and so is Akaashi, but he’s pushing it away because he’s stubborn and scared. Kageyama needs to gather up that microgram of courage he has and talk to them. Get them to talk to each other.

He takes a deep breath and ends up just looking at his phone again.

**_Kageyama_ ** _: yeah i’m good_

**_Suga_ ** _: Akaashi?_

**_Kageyama_ ** _: imagine me shrugging_

**_Suga_ ** _: Right. Me sighing_

**_Kageyama_ ** _: tell mattsun i’m sorry_

**_Suga_ ** _: We’re all sorry Tobio_

The bathroom door opens and Hinata flicks the light off. He walks out with wet hair and the towel in his hands, looks at Kageyama, and says, “Tadashi?”

“Upstairs,” Kageyama replies.

“Down in a sec,” Yamaguchi calls from the loft.

Kageyama tried to explain that it wasn’t his fault, but it feels like Yamaguchi took the panic attack to heart. Maybe the thermostat thing set it off, but Bokuto obviously had more going on than getting scolded. It was just the straw that broke his emotional stability. Whatever he had left of it.

“Towel?” Hinata calls back.

“Closet in the hall.”

Kageyama watches him go to the laundry, watches his little blue pinstripes while he walks and bends over to put the towel in the washer. Hinata turns back around and smiles while he comes over to sit down next to him.

“I think this is the most I’ve ever sat in my life,” he says, laughing a little. “Everything okay with Suga?”

Kageyama looks at him. “As good as it can be, I guess. They’ve all been worrying.”

Hinata nods. “I guess they should be. Everything good with you?”

He leans his head back against the wall. “Good question.”

“Good point.” Hinata turns. “How are you doing, Bokuto?”

Bokuto blinks over at them from where he was taking another glance at Akaashi. “Huh?”

“Cool book?”

Bokuto looks at it blankly. “Pretty sick.”

Akaashi sits crisscross on the leather with his knee touching Bokuto’s leg. He shifts and makes sure it still is.

“You haven’t checked your pockets in a while, man,” Kageyama says, then wonders why because he freaks himself out.

Akaashi looks at him.

When Bokuto does too, there’s awareness on his face. He still looks gaunt, older, really pale in the daylight and his hair badly needs washing, but somehow Kageyama actually sees _him_ again. It’s the eyes of the Bokuto that lived at their house for a while—generally smiling, always grateful, often crying, barely sleeping. He’s at least trying to come back.

In Kageyama’s head, he hears Hinata asking _Is he, I mean—is he depressed?_

“Well, Kaashi said I took everything, so,” Bokuto says. He doesn’t even sound upset. Just stating facts. “I don’t have any and you guys won’t let me leave. You know plants can sense electromagnetic forcefields and acoustic energy?” He turns the book toward them, hands still shaking, then turns it back around and looks down at it, slumped over. A tremor goes through him and his jaw clenches. “Pretty sick.”

At least trying.

“And gravity, touch, sound, hormones, pathogens.” Yamaguchi comes down the stairs holding the ruby slippers. “Plants sense everything.” He pats the pot. “She needs tending today. Some of the little dudes aren’t doing so well.”

“Was it the air?” Bokuto asks, and Kageyama is at least proud of him for taking some responsibility.

Yamaguchi thinks for a second, but even if it partially was, he’d never say it. “I think it was the stress. No big deal. I’ll get another towel if someone wants to shower next?”

Akaashi puts his hand up. “We will.”

Bokuto looks over at him and sits up a bit out of his slump. Google said something about lack of sex drive, which Kageyama knew already. Akaashi did, too: _He’s all over me, more than usual, but only when he’s high_. _When he’s down…_ At this point, Kageyama figures Bokuto is just scared that Akaashi is going to walk out of the door and never come back.

“I’ll have to wash the one Shouyou just used if you don’t mind waiting,” Yamaguchi says, and Akaashi tells him it’s fine. “All right. And, um—Bokuto, I just wanted to apologize for getting upset earlier.”

Kageyama wants to chuckle and say it really wasn’t a big deal, but it was freezing and there was a panic attack and orchid emergency and _The six of us, we’re all gonna die_ and he’s too tired to say any words.

Akaashi prods Bokuto with his knee until he looks up at Yamaguchi. “Oh. I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have,” he trembles, “turned it down. Sorry about the plants.”

Yamaguchi smiles, nodding a little. “The plants just want you to get better.”

Bokuto looks at the floor.

“Well, anyway.” Yamaguchi sighs. “Breakfast texted me he’s here so, should be any second.”

Hinata looks at Kageyama and he shrugs. He puts his hand over his yellow stomach. He really needs to change this shirt.

A knock on the door startles Bokuto. “I’m not really hungry,” he mutters.

Akaashi looks at him. “Will you eat something anyway?”

There’s a pause while Yamaguchi goes to the door. _For him, Bo_ , Kageyama thinks. _And for yourself._

Bokuto nods. “Yeah. Yeah, Kaashi. I’m.” He doesn’t say anything else or apologize like he wanted to. Akaashi looks down, and for now, it is what it is.

Yamaguchi opens the door to Tsukishima holding a paper bag in his arms. “Surprise.”

Hinata stands, grinning. “Tsukki.”

Kageyama follows Hinata’s lead. “But what about finals?”

Tsukishima walks in and shrugs at him as he comes to the living room. “It’s fine. They start on Wednesday for me, and Tadashi kept bugging me this morning to bring something, so. Hope you like muffins.” He adjusts his glasses. “How’s Bokuto?” His face looks like he’s uncomfortable being here right now, but he still is, and Kageyama is thankful for it. Bokuto needs to be surrounded.

“Shitty,” Bokuto says, smiling.

Hinata chuckles. “He’s doing all right, _we_ think.”

“How was last night?” Tsukishima looks around at them, smart but out of the loop.

Yamaguchi hugs his ruby slippers. Kageyama says, “It went.”

“Effective,” Akaashi says.

Tsukishima sort of nods, embarrassed that he asked. “Ah. I see,” he says, unsure. “Well.” He puts the bag down and pulls out a box of four chocolate chip muffins. He takes one out and turns to Bokuto with it. “ _Es ist noch nicht aller Tage Abend._ ” He holds the muffin out to him.

Bokuto gets this pitiful look on his face. “I don’t know what that means.”

Tsukishima sighs. “It’s a saying about how the days haven’t all ended, and…” He sighs again. “I’m…” he looks sideways and pushes up his glasses, “trying to say that you can do it.” He looks back at Bokuto and motions the muffin again stiffly. “You’re still a fool, huh? Take it. You look a wreck.”

Maybe he’s braver than all of them.

They all stand there, waiting, until Bokuto reaches up and takes it. “ _Ein bisschen_ ,” he says. He has one small bite, and it’s the first thing in way too long that Kageyama has seen him eat besides dusty white pills from a purple Ziploc bag. Bokuto’s brows raise a little. “This is good.” He looks around at them all staring, and it really is his eyes again. “What?”

Akaashi pinches the bridge of his nose.

Kageyama snorts. “Dude.” He hooks his fingertip into Hinata’s pocket, and Hinata smiles at him.

Bokuto looks up at Tsukishima again. “Do you have blueberry? It’s Kaashi’s favorite.”


	27. 19:20

His Instagram feed is made of people from school he never talks to, celebrities and influencers and musicians he follows, and he wonders how many of these people are on drugs too. Grades, creativity, figure, chill, happiness. Just because or for no reason at all.

He thinks about it as he listens to the shower running. It would be nice to think Bokuto and Akaashi are making out in there, but it will probably be a while before that happens again. He imagines Akaashi looking at Bokuto’s ribs through his skin, standing there silently while Bokuto rinses his hair. Akaashi’s cheeks getting red, but he won’t cry.

As long as Bokuto doesn’t slip and break his skull open. Akaashi would never be able to handle it.

“I just want him to leave the Porta Potty emptyhanded,” Kageyama says, staring at the bathroom door. “He’s still standing in there.”

Tsukishima’s eyebrow goes up. “Huh?” They’re in their square on the rug again.

“Nothing,” Kageyama says. “Just a weird metaphor I have.”

Yamaguchi prunes off part of his current plant. He reaches over to Kageyama and situates the leaves over his ear. “It’s all good.”

Kageyama brings a hand up to the leaves—soft and waxy. “We’re sorry about, like, all of this. Me and the guys. Akaashi is really annoyed that we’re bothering you.”

Yamaguchi shakes his head. “I mean it, Tobio, it’s fine.”

“He can’t do hospitals very well.”

“He’s serious,” Tsukishima says.

“You too.” Kageyama nods at him. “You didn’t have to come here.”

“Sometimes we do things we don’t have to because we care about people,” Hinata says.

Kageyama looks at him.

“Really,” Yamaguchi insists. “Last night could have gone a lot worse and I shouldn’t have snapped at him about the temperature.”

Kageyama snorts. “That was snapping?”

“You should see him when he’s really mad,” Hinata says. “He like, _frowns_.”

They laugh.

“Does he sing a lot?” Tsukishima asks.

Kageyama focuses in on it. Bokuto’s voice is easier to hear as the water turns off.

_Oh, look what you’ve done_

_You’ve made a fool of everyone_

“Jet.” He smiles a little. “Yeah, all the time, since we were kids. He loves singing even though he’s not that good. When he met Akaashi, he sang ‘Are You Gonna Be My Girl’ to him way too many times. Stopped before Akaashi finally caved. He’s great at the drum part, too.” He shakes his head. “He’s himself around us, and drumming has been good for his feelings since high school. He had it rough when we were younger, got teased a lot by other kids. He would’ve done great in college if he ever got to it, but now his coworkers mess with him and he’s never been happy there. And then the whole Daishou thing.”

“Will he go back?” Hinata asks. “To the restaurant?”

Kageyama shrugs. “I think they’re trying to make him quit. Suga and Kuroo. And me, I guess.”

Hinata nods. “I think he should.”

“There are jobs everywhere,” Yamaguchi says. “With the school or the local hospital.” He realizes it and redacts. “Well, with the school maybe.”

Kageyama nods, then looks at Tsukishima. “Tsukki, can you give me a referral?”

Tsukishima eyes him over the nickname. “For what?”

The bathroom opens and Bokuto walks out in a different pair of shorts, no shirt, holding his towel. Akaashi, in jeans and the cutoff sleeveless shirt that matches the one Bokuto has, flicks the light off as he walks out behind him.

“Cool leaves, Tobe,” Bokuto says, motioning to his ear.

He ate the whole muffin and some of the stir fry Yamaguchi and Hinata made for lunch, plus a cup of some herbal tea Yamaguchi gave him. His ribs are still obvious and his face is still miserable even if he’s smiling, but his color is coming back and, clean, he looks a lot better. There are pinpricks on his chest from scratching so hard and a nice pinkish gash on his ankle forever that Kageyama is just noticing.

_Cool scar, Bo_. “Thanks.”

“We ended up using the one towel,” Akaashi says. He runs a hand through his hair. “Forgot we had the second one.” He closes his eyes for a second.

A small voice in Kageyama’s head says _You’re doing this to yourself, Akaashi,_ which feels sort of bad but isn’t totally wrong. Akaashi can let some responsibility go. Bokuto is his boyfriend, but he’s also their friend and bandmate, so this problem belongs to all of them. He’s good at bottling his feelings but bad at hiding them. It all comes across as this apathetic sort of anger, and they all know he’s just worried and doesn’t know what to do and is probably really conflicted. Stick by Bokuto and be maybe too selfless? Preserve himself from something toxic? _It hurt itself in its confusion!_

“Oh, that’s fine,” Yamaguchi says. He stands and puts his fresh plant on the end table with his ruby slippers. “I’ll take that one to the washer.”

“I got it,” Bokuto says, but Akaashi takes it from his hands and goes to the hallway.

After a weird pause, Hinata tells him, “You look better.”

Bokuto smiles. “Thanks, man. I feel a bit better.” He goes to the duffel on the floor to find a shirt that Akaashi must have washed for him yesterday when he checked his clothes. As he digs through, his back tenses up, muscles and bones visible. His head drops a little and he exhales, and then he stands up with a T-shirt, sticks his arms in, and drops it onto his body. Akaashi walks back over.

“That’s really good,” Hinata tries to say positively.

Kageyama’s phone rings. He looks at it, swipes it open and hits speaker, holding it out a little. “Hey, it’s us, Suga.”

“Hey, guys,” Suga calls. Everyone says a hey back and he asks, “How are you feeling, Bokuto?”

“I ate a whole muffin,” Bokuto says. He has his fingers together, chipping the last of his green nail polish away.

“And some stir fry,” Hinata adds.

Suga laughs. “That’s great. That’s—I’m glad.”

“It’s going all right,” Kageyama says.

“I’m really happy to hear it, you guys. Yamaguchi, again, thank—”

“I’m trying to say it’s no big deal!” Yamaguchi says, and Tsukishima says, “You’ll kill him with all this gratitude.”

“Suga, this is Tsukishima,” Kageyama says. “I’ve brought him to a show but I don’t think you got the chance to meet him. Shouyou’s friend.”

“I brought the muffins,” Tsukishima says, shrugging.

“Oh, hey,” Suga says. “Nice to meet you. Thank you so much for doing that.”

“What’s up?” Kageyama asks.

“I was letting you guys know we’ll be coming by later today,” Suga says. “Around five, maybe? If Yamaguchi is okay with it.”

Yamaguchi hums a yes. “Maximum capacity is like fifteen for my parties, and I’m a good host.”

“You seriously are,” Suga laughs.

“You can’t come earlier?” Akaashi asks. It’s the first thing he’s said.

Bokuto looks at him, and Kageyama looks at them, at Akaashi, at the part he’s not saying. Imploring the others to show up.

“Well—let me talk to Issei about it, okay?” Suga sounds like he’s looking around for the answer to making everyone happy. “Kuroo has been working on his new song, but he’ll get out of creative headspace if I tell him to. And I’m just doing school stuff so, um. Yeah, let me ask Issei. Cool?”

Akaashi crosses his arms, hugging himself, and nods. “Yeah. Got it.”

“All right. Great. Well, Bokuto—keep it going, huh?”

“You got it, Miss Monroe.” Bokuto salutes at the phone and then smiles at Akaashi, but Akaashi isn’t looking.

Suga laughs one more time. “All right. We’ll see you guys later. Thanks, Tobio. And thank you Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, and Hinata.”

A message shows up from Instagram. Kageyama glances at it, swipes it away.

“Of course,” Yamaguchi says, and Hinata says, “See you guys.”

“Later, Suga,” Kageyama says. Suga says goodbye, and Kageyama ends the call.

“What time is it?” Bokuto asks. He looks around for a clock.

“It’s twelve forty-seven,” Hinata says.

Bokuto frowns. “That’s like four hours.”

“Do you like movies?” Yamaguchi motions to the flat screen.

Bokuto blinks at him. “Yeah. I like movies.”

“I have Hulu if you wanna pick one.”

“Dude. We don’t even have a TV at home.” He looks at Akaashi, putting a hand on his crossed arm. “Kaashi, let’s pick one. Come on.” With a gentle sigh, Akaashi acquiesces. They join Yamaguchi with the remote.

“I’m gonna go home.” Tsukishima stands from the couch. “Reviewing noun classes again and going over Reykjavík’s political history.”

“Oh, okay,” Hinata says. “Is it lonely without me?” He grins. Tsukishima deadpans at him and he laughs. “Thanks for bringing muffins. You know I like muffins.”

Tsukishima shakes his head. “You are one. See you.”

“See you,” Kageyama says. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“Yeah. Also.” He adjusts his glasses at him. “Change your shirt.”

Kageyama goes red.

Tsukishima waves at them, and calls out to Yamaguchi that he’s going.

“Do I—” Kageyama leans and smells himself. “I’ve been wearing this for over a day.”

Hinata laughs and shrugs a shoulder. “Anxious sweat can smell worse than normal perspiration.”

“Awesome,” Kageyama says. Hinata laughs and nudges him, and he smiles. “Oh.” He snaps his fingers. “Makki messaged before.” He goes into his Instagram.

**_maquitos_ ** _: hey dude, just sending good vibes. I hope it’s all right for you guys over there. Issei’s keeping me updated_

So he’s not completely put off by all of this? Nice. Like, actually really nice. Maybe Mattsun sugarcoated it for him, didn’t use those keywords like “overdose” and “withdrawal” and “almost killed himself twice.”

**_nuffboy_ ** _: thanks man seriously. things are going good right now, last night was wild. thanks for being cool about it esp with finals coming up_

**_maquitos_ ** _: my exams ended yesterday [peace sign] third year down. I’m actually at issei’s rn_

Kageyama snorts. “Ah. I see why we’re talking to Mattsun about coming earlier.” He angles his screen toward Hinata.

“Invite him here,” Hinata suggests, looking up at him. “I’m sure Tadashi’s cool with it.”

“Yeah, I’m cool,” Yamaguchi calls over his shoulder. “With what?”

“Mattsun’s boyfriend is in town. We wanted to invite him with the guys.” Kageyama waves his phone.

Yamaguchi smiles. “Definitely. He’s completely enchanted.”

Kageyama nods. “Totally.”

**_nuffboy_ ** _: sweet, hope the place isn’t gross lmao. wanna join the party here later?_

**_maquitos_ ** _: hell yeah. looking forward to meeting you guys_

“That’s kind of awesome when you think about it,” Hinata says, leaning against Kageyama’s shoulder. “Like, I know it’s basically just college, but a fan finally getting to meet the band, dating a member.”

“Or a member finally getting to date a fan?” Kageyama grins.

Hinata shrugs. “Sure, if you learn an actual instrument.”

Kageyama laughs and Hinata kisses the side of his head.

**_nuffboy_ ** _: bring mattsun along too ok?_

**_maquitos_ ** _: lmao no promises_

Kageyama smiles and puts his phone away. “Okay, Mattsun’s bringing Makki later,” he tells the room.

Bokuto makes big eyes at him. “So we get to meet him? You guys wanna watch a scary movie?”

Kageyama and Hinata glance at each other. “Maybe something more relaxed?” Hinata suggests for Bokuto’s sake.

“Wait, _Iron Man,_ ” Bokuto says, turning back to the TV. “Three.”

Yamaguchi hums. “It’s only listing one and two.”

Bokuto brings his hands to his head. “Oh my god. Now I’m really depressed.”

Hinata leans into Kageyama’s side and mumbles, “Well, if that’s the worst of it…”

It’s not. Bokuto is still shaking, and his parents are still gone, and Akaashi’s arms are still crossed, and Ukai and Atlanta and Roseneau.

But right now, it is. Kageyama will take it.

He smiles and puts his arm around Hinata’s shoulders.


	28. 22:45

Yamaguchi gave him a pink T-shirt that says Huntington Beach with a palm tree. The shower is hot and his hair smells like fancy herbal shampoo and conditioner.

Things feel good again. Everyone is fine and the others will be here in an hour at five. Bokuto will be happy soon, and Akaashi will…

_They just need to talk. You need to talk to them._

He turns off the water.

He pulls on the same joggers when he gets out; the shirt is soft and worn-in. He looks at himself in the mirror: floppy wet bangs all over his forehead since he hasn’t had it cut in weeks, really tired, and his skin is irritated from the stress. Miwa used to tell him he’d get the 11 between his eyebrows prematurely from frowning so much back in high school, and he thinks it’s already setting in.

He sighs and puts the towel over his head. While he’s rubbing his hair, there’s a crash out in the living room.

His heart jumps into his throat. “Guys.” He pulls open the door, towel hanging off his shoulder. “What happened?”

It’s Bokuto, standing next to the couch, gawking down at the ruby slippers shattered on the floor, ceramic pot shards and dirt and exposed roots and fertilizer beads. Akaashi looks at it, Hinata’s eyes are wide and his shoulders are up from being startled. Yamaguchi stands across the room with his arms out a little and his mouth open. _The Martian_ plays on the TV until Hinata pauses it.

“Bo,” Kageyama says. He looks at Yamaguchi. “Tadashi.”

Akaashi: “Koutarou.”

Bokuto: “Oh my god I’m sorry.”

Yamaguchi turns around and faces away from all of them. He takes a moment while they all wait, putting his hands on his hips. He pushes out a deep breath and turns back to them. “It was an accident. I know it was an accident.”

“What happened?” Kageyama asks again.

Bokuto stammers. “I—I was just getting up and I was like, shaky or something and I just—the table—I didn’t mean to.” His face twists up.

“Don’t cry right now, dude,” Kageyama tells him.

Bokuto shakes it away.

“I know it was an accident,” Yamaguchi says again. “It’s fine.”

“You don’t have to tell him that,” Akaashi mutters.

Yamaguchi looks at him, then at Bokuto’s pleading face. “It’s okay, really. I’ll just, um.” He looks around then goes to the counter and picks up his keys. A keychain of a sunflower dangles from them, spinning. “I’m going to go get another pot and, like, be out for a bit.”

Kageyama nods at him. “No, yeah, that’s fine.”

“Want me to come?” Hinata asks.

“I’m really sorry,” Bokuto insists.

Yamaguchi sighs again and puts on a smile. “Accidents happen. I’m good, Shouyou. Just,” he looks around at his plants, “be careful while I’m gone, okay?”

Akaashi slouches into the couch and crosses his arms again.

“We got it,” Kageyama says.

“Okay. Cool.” Tadashi takes another breath, straightens his shirt and clutches his keys. “Okay. And please don’t touch the roots. Or, just don’t touch it.”

They nod at him. He nods back and says he’ll see them in a bit. He locks the door when he leaves.

There’s an uncomfortable silence until Hinata finally relaxes his shoulders down and says, “Well. It’s all right.” He looks up at Kageyama, but Kageyama doesn’t know what to say.

Bokuto says, “I hate myself.”

Akaashi closes his eyes and shakes his head. It makes an uneasy pang in Kageyama’s chest. Akaashi stands from the couch.

“Babe?” Bokuto stares at him.

“I’m going to clean up what I can.” Akaashi kneels in the dirt and starts picking up chunks of ceramic.

“I’ll help,” Bokuto says.

He tries to go to him, but Akaashi puts his hand out and waves him back. “Don’t touch it.”

“But it’s my fault, I should—”

“Stop it, Koutarou, go _away_.” He hisses and drops one of the small shards as his finger begins bleeding from a cut. He looks at his hand—they all do—and he closes it, closes his eyes, and sits down on the floor. He turns his face away from everyone.

Bokuto takes another step in his direction. “Kaashi, let me help you.”

“Can you just listen for once?” Akaashi says. “Can you please just,” he pushes his other hand out again, “go over there so you don’t hurt yourself again? You just keep doing it over and over like you don’t even care what happens to the rest of us, and I can’t do it right now. Just sit down over there.”

Kageyama is just standing there dumbly with the wet towel still hooked over him. If he moves, all the land mines around him will blow everything up.

Bokuto holds his hands up by his sides, palms up and fingers curled, shaking. His lips are starting to quiver. If Kageyama tells him not to cry again, it’ll just make it happen. “Kaashi. I’m sorry,” Bokuto says. “About all of it. I know I suck.”

Akaashi doesn’t look at him. “Don’t say things like that. It’s not fair to me.”

Bokuto looks down, chin trembling.

Akaashi picks up the piece of ceramic and looks at it. He wipes his hand on his jeans, smearing the little bit of blood. “The worst part is that you lied to me about it,” he says. “You hid it from me and you told me it was nothing. I knew the whole time—of course I knew. I just wanted you to say something. You’re _my_ boyfriend, but I still had to hear it from Tobio because he was too afraid that something was going to happen with you that he couldn’t keep it a secret anymore even though he was trying to protect your pride. _He_ told me. Why didn’t you?”

He looks up at Bokuto and Kageyama can already hear it in his voice, the way his eyes are glassy. It’s finally making him cry, and he _never_ cries. How did any of this happen? How did they let it get to this point?

Why couldn’t Bokuto’s parents have just started driving two minutes earlier?

“But…Kaashi.” Bokuto has to squeeze the words from his throat.

“I know I should have pushed,” Akaashi says. “I know I should have said something. It’s my fault that I didn’t do something sooner, but I just…I just wanted you to _tell_ me.”

“It’s not your fault, Kaashi,” Bokuto whines. “I’m sorry.”

Akaashi shakes his head. “Why was I…why couldn’t you trust me?”

Bokuto leans forward. “I’m sorry, Kaashi. I was—I’m embarrassed. I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to—” He stops like he can’t even say it. Like he knows it’s not fair. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m not just happy. I’m sorry. I trust you. I love you.”

The words sit there between them, waiting to see what Akaashi will do. Kageyama glances at Hinata, but neither of them have anything to say.

Bokuto stands there, his soul offered up. “Keiji?”

Akaashi stands up. His cheeks are red and there are pieces of tears in his lashes, pieces of ceramic in his hands. “Just rest, Koutarou.”

If Kageyama listens closely, he can hear the sound of Bokuto’s heart breaking in two.

Akaashi looks at his finger again, then the floor. He wipes his cheeks once while he walks away to the kitchen.

Bokuto watches him go.

Hinata says, very softly, “Maybe just give him a second?” but nobody answers.

Kageyama looks to Bokuto. “You okay, dude?”

Bokuto blinks. He’s crying too, tears falling steadily from his eyes, but it’s as if he doesn’t notice. “I don’t know why.”

Kageyama says, “It’s because,” but that’s all that comes out.

Bokuto sits down on the couch and doesn’t say anything else.

Eventually, Hinata says, “I’ll clean. Um. Tobio, why don’t you—” He looks up at him and tilts his head toward the hall.

Kageyama nods. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Shou.” He takes a breath and makes one more sad attempt. “Bo, it’s…”

Bokuto doesn’t move and Hinata just tilts his head again.

Kageyama stops trying because it’ll never work. He’ll never be able to fix all of it at once. He puts his towel in the wash on his way to the kitchen.

Akaashi is sitting on the countertop, pushing around one of the pieces of the pot next to his leg. What is Kageyama supposed to say to him? Is this even his to deal with?

_They’re your best friends, Tobio. Just say_ something _._

“Hey,” he says. “It’s okay.”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Akaashi says.

_I know but you really should._ “Okay.”

“Thanks.”

“He told me because—”

“I know, and I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Kageyama puts his hands in his pockets. “Okay. Sorry.”

“Hey, um.” Hinata comes around the frame with the rest of the pot in his hands. Akaashi keeps pushing his piece around. “Tadashi just texted and said he saw the guys on the way out. I guess they’re here early after all.” He puts his feet together.

Akaashi slides off the counter. “I’ll go get them.”

Kageyama says all right and Hinata says okay, he’ll get the pieces.

Akaashi opens the door and tells them, loud enough that it gets to the couch, “Everyone is going to put on a happy face or else Suga will get upset and we’ll scare Makki away,” and then walks out and closes the door behind him.


	29. 25:10

Kageyama sits on the floor between Hinata and Kuroo, which is sort of awkward but not a huge deal if he doesn’t make it one. Bokuto automatically got an end seat on the couch to lean on the arm, with Akaashi next to him by default; Suga sits at the other end, and Mattsun and Makki sit together on the middle cushion. Makki is even cooler in person, _so_ Mattsun’s type, and Mattsun seems calm with him even with everything going on. He introduced himself and gets along with them all easily; Bokuto asked him about Greenwood and Kyoto and accounting. Kageyama saw Mattsun kiss him once and it made his heart happier. The two of them will be going out to dinner alone soon, away from all of this, and he’s really glad about it.

Suga asked about the plant on the floor. Kageyama just said it was an accident, that that’s where Yamaguchi was headed, it’s no big deal, but Suga didn’t look like he believed him. When Makki was picking the next movie, Kageyama went with Suga into the kitchen because the idea of Atlanta and a record deal won’t get out of his head.

“Any word on the thing yet?” he asked. “Have you talked to Ukai?”

Suga crossed his arms. “I don’t know. I’m really not sure.”

“The deadline is Monday, right?”

Suga glanced at Kuroo over the counter. “Yeah. I know.”

It freaked both of them out, so they just went back into the living room.

And now, he’s sitting on the floor between Hinata and Kuroo watching _The Hangover_ and trying to find more of his minuscule courage. _You need to talk to him, Tobio. His brain isn’t messed up anymore—at least not that way. Just turn your stupid pink Huntington Beach body and look at him. He’s your best friend since you were kids._

Under his breath, he says, “Oh man.”

“You can do it,” Hinata whispers to him.

“How long till the movie’s over?”

“Go talk to him, you’ve seen it before.”

Hinata pats his arm and it makes him feel lame for not just manning up and doing it sooner. Honestly, he’s too tired to be nervous anymore. He finally turns to look, and it’s like Bokuto was expecting it—he looks over with just his eyes, his body squished up against the corner of the couch. Last night Kageyama might have been worried that Bokuto would do something, try to use being let outside as an escape, but they’re all kind of over it. There’s nothing left to escape but what’s in his head.

Kageyama holds Bokuto’s gaze and tilts his head toward the door: _Come out with me._

Bokuto blinks. He turns to look at Akaashi and uses this really wimpy voice. “Kaashi, can I go outside with Tobe?”

Akaashi looks at him, at Kageyama, then at the TV again. “Yeah.”

“Just for a little,” Kageyama says.

“It’s fine.”

“You guys be careful,” Suga says.

“We’re just gonna stay on the balcony,” Kageyama tells him, but he’s still looking at Bokuto.

“You thinking about it?” Kageyama asks.

The sung hangs a couple of hands above the horizon. It’s humid, with clouds in the distance like it could rain later tonight, cicadas beginning to chirr. He leans next to Bokuto against the railing of the second floor. Bokuto peers over the edge at the asphalt parking lot, and for a moment, Kageyama sees in his head Bokuto tossing himself over, and his skull cracks open into neat ceramic shards and dirt and colorful beads spill out. Or it doesn’t even crack open—nothing happens at all but he’s just dead, and after all of this, that would be really anticlimactic.

Bokuto shrugs. He puts his arms on the railing and his chin on them.

Kageyama shrugs back. “Don’t try to run cause I’m kind of tired.”

“You don’t think I am?”

The mental toll Bokuto has taken makes him look deteriorated, like he could collapse at any moment. Kageyama says, “Are you okay?”

Bokuto nods. “Yeah. I’m just tired of feeling…bad. I feel really stupid for breaking the plant.”

“You didn’t break the plant. Tadashi will save it.”

He shrugs again. “I guess. I just, like. I’m ready to stop being an asshole. Whenever this is all over.”

Kageyama follows his gaze down to the parking spaces, an oil mark shining iridescent. He brought Bokuto out here, so…what is he supposed to say now?

_Anything_.

“Hey, do you remember the egg drop project in middle school?”

Bokuto smiles a little. He dangles one arm over the railing and reaches with his hand, grasping for something. “Yeah. Mine failed bad.”

Kageyama laughs. “Yeah, on purpose. You just wanted to throw an egg on school grounds.”

Bokuto smiles more and closes his fist around whatever Kageyama can’t see. He brings it up to the railing and puts his chin back down. “Yeah. It was cool. I bet if we left it there it would’ve fried. It was like ninety-something that day.”

“You had on your terrycloth shorts,” Kageyama remembers. “The yellow pair. With the white shirt.”

“A perfect sunny-side-up.” Bokuto giggles. “Oliver used say I peed my pants when I wore those shorts. People used to laugh.”

Kageyama frowns. “That guy was a total dick. I don’t know what they were ever laughing at.”

“I guess me,” Bokuto says. Kageyama is about to get mad and say something else, but Bokuto looks at him and smiles, and it goes away. “But yours ended up working cause you wanted to show off for that girl.”

He snorts. “Hitoka was definitely not into me.”

“But you were into her. And the one from eighth grade. Tomas from sophomore year.” He pokes his lips out. “You’ve had a lot of crushes.”

Tomas with the rectangular glasses who got second place in science fair. Kageyama’s first guy crush once he figured that out. “Yeah, and what about Kaori? You drooled over her in the hall once in your junior year.”

Bokuto punches him—weakly, but a punch. “Shut up.”

Kageyama rubs his arm. “I mean, she was pretty, I don’t blame you. You’re into the pretty type.”

Bokuto looks away at the road, cars going by. “Kaashi hates me right now,” he says.

“He doesn’t,” Kageyama says. “He just cares about you.”

“He’s not happy to be around me anymore.”

Kageyama shakes his head. “That’s…” _Only right now_. “Not true. It’s just—it’s like we’re somewhere else right now. You get that?” Bokuto just looks at him. “Like, it wasn’t you last night.”

Bokuto sighs, looking at the ground again. “That feels like a cop-out.”

Kageyama shrugs. “You can still take responsibility for your freaky clone.”

“He still has my DNA and he still tried to kill himself twice,” Bokuto mutters. He sniffs and throws whatever was in his fist out over the second floor onto the pavement. “And he’s still a piece of shit to his boyfriend. It’s not just about last night.”

Kageyama rubs his neck. “But you’re trying to fix it now. And you never, like, did anything wrong to him.” At least not physically. And except for the let go of me thing. It’s not like Bokuto needs to be reminded. Kageyama’s voice is a little quieter as he says, “You’ve always treated him like you’re in love with him.”

Bokuto puts his elbows on the railing and covers his face, pushing his hands back through his hair. “I am. I think I have been forever. For some reason he chose to like a screwed-up deadbeat like me, and now I—” He lifts a hand, then drops it. It hangs limp over the rail. “He didn’t even say it back. He’s supposed to say it back.”

_He’s conflicted, Bo. This is rough for him. It is for all of us. He’s afraid to love you back right now. You have to fix it. You have to get better._

_Say it, Tobio. Tell him honestly._

It all gets stuck uselessly in his throat. “Just give it time.”

“He’s so mad at me.”

“He—” _Be honest_ , “has every right to be bothered.” He sighs the rest of his breath out.

Bokuto looks at him with a broken expression, and it twists his insides a little. “I couldn’t tell him, Tobe,” Bokuto says desperately. “I know he’s too smart and he knew I was messed up, but I couldn’t say it out loud to him. I don’t want him to leave me. If he breaks up with me, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

But saying that isn’t fair to Akaashi. It would have been manipulative if he’d said it before, but he didn’t, and Kageyama is proud of Bokuto for managing to keep that much in, even with it obvious on his face. “I get it,” he says.

“I keep saying I’ve never hurt him but I have because of this and all this time leading up to it. It doesn’t matter how nice I am when he still has to deal with this and with me taking drugs and being worried about me all the time.” Bokuto speaks quickly, telling the air everything with a single breath until he runs out. “And now I’m not even nice anymore. This happened last time, like—I couldn’t do anything. I just felt like shit all the time.” He puts his hands on his face again. “He’s unreal, Tobe. He’s everything I want. I’m more in love with him than I am with anything else, even drums. I never thought I’d actually get to have a relationship with someone I fell for so hard, and who showed me so much in return. Being with him makes me happy in a way that…” He shakes his head. “Like no pill ever could. I don’t want to treat him like I did then. I _can’t_ because then he’ll just go. He’ll have to.”

“No, Bo, he won’t,” Kageyama insists. Bokuto looks at him, asking for more, but he doesn’t have anything else. He’s not even sure of as much as he just said. “I mean, he could, but—” He swallows. “I just feel like he’d be gone already.”

Bokuto slumps onto the rail again. “I don’t know if that makes me feel better.”

“I don’t know,” Kageyama sighs. “Just…” Hinata in his head: _It’ll be okay. It might be hard, but we’ll figure it out_. “It’ll be okay,” he says. “We’ll figure it out. You have to give Akaashi something, like, to make him want to keep trying. And you have to let him figure it out, too—whatever’s best for him. You can’t force anything.” He looks at Bokuto. “Have a little faith in him.”

“I know,” Bokuto says, but his voice is shaky and he sounds scared. “I know that. I want him to trust me. To trust that I trust him. I was too weak before and I got back on the Addy so I could _do_ stuff again, and then—” He exhales and scowls at the air, but it’s sad, like he would cry if he had the strength left. “And then Daishou took me around back, and he said he had something else I might like. And I shouldn’t have done it, but I did. And it felt so good.” He tilts his chin up and closes his eyes. “It felt amazing. You get so happy. Whatever’s in those things—they make you really happy, intensely happy, and even though I’m shaking and I’m thirsty and tight all the time, I feel like I can work forever, play forever. I can live forever. No matter what happened to me, I could still be happy and painless and live forever.”

_When I’m rolling…_

Kageyama doesn’t know what to say. He barely knows what to feel.

Bokuto looks down again. “I kept thinking that, since it had been so long, I could stop soon. One last magic pill would lock it in and keep me invincible. I just wanted it to go on forever.” He shakes his head. “When I took everything yesterday, it was like…” He brings his hand to his chest and flutters it around. “My heart was beating really fast. I took them and it was only a few minutes, and then my heart started going crazy, and I kept thinking that you were coming over. I kept thinking that Kaashi was home studying, and I saw his face in my head like I was looking at him from far away, like I was way up on this huge stage and he was the only person in the crowd, except then I was standing next to him looking at myself too, and I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t me, I’m right next to him and that’s not really me up there, but I couldn’t get his attention because he couldn’t see me. And I could hear my heart in my skull. It was so loud. My teeth hurt and I could hear my heartbeat and I think I could hear Mattsun’s computer keys clicking really fast, like this rattling noise, and nothing else. And I was blinking and I wasn’t seeing anything anymore so I sat down on my floor and just thought about dying. How nice it would be to just stop waking up.”

Kageyama just listens to him, staring at the iridescence on the pavement. Any words right now, even if some actually got out of his head, would have no sound.

“I only think about myself,” Bokuto says, nodding. “I’m really selfish.”

Kageyama does some motion with his hand, figuring out how to process it. “You…” He swallows again and it feels really thick. “You have to change it. That’s what this whole thing is about. I know you feel like shit and…so…don’t do it for nothing. Right?”

A pause. A nod. “Yeah. Right.”

“It’s like—we don’t _know_ what to do. We just want to help you and so we’re trying to be here for you. All of us and especially him.” He hooks a thumb at the door. “We didn’t just want to lock you up for two days—”

“No, I know.” Bokuto looks at Kageyama again. “I need to thank you guys. I guess I needed the—” his face twitches, “intervention.” He clutches his arm in as a tremor goes through him. His jaw clenches until he heaves a sigh.

“It’s still happening?” Kageyama asks. “The shaking?”

Bokuto nods. “Not as much. I just want it to stop.”

“Are you still craving it?”

Bokuto closes his eyes again. “So bad. I just want that feeling _._ I want this feeling to go away.” His hand comes down toward his pocket but he catches it and closes it into a fist. He exhales and brings it back up. “I don’t even know what day it is. The anniversary is getting really, really close.”

Kageyama just nods. “It’s coming either way. You have to get out of this.”

“I know.” Bokuto sniffs. “I’m going to. I have to do this for you guys.”

“For yourself, Bo.”

“I don’t care about that. I need this to work for you guys and for the band, because…” He shivers, crosses his arms on the rail, and holds his elbows. “I don’t have anything else.”

Drummer, boyfriend, bandmate, and best friend of thirteen years, since they were kids. “Well, we care about you,” Kageyama tells him.

Bokuto looks at him. “I know you mean it.”

“Yeah.” He smiles a little. “I don’t know a lot, but I’m pretty sure that’s how this works. Just having people around to, like, support you. I watched this video on it.”

Bokuto snorts. “Dude.”

“And we’re gonna find you someone who knows more. You just have to get an edge over this. You’re a _drummer_ , dude.” He pushes Bokuto’s bony shoulder.

Bokuto laughs again. “I know, I know.”

“So don’t blow it.”

He pushes his hair again. “Yeah. I know.”

“You’ll get better. All the way in there.” Kageyama touches his head and his chest.

Bokuto sighs again and looks away. “I know.” He adjusts his arms.

They pause. Kageyama says, “Cool.”

“I’m sorry for. You know.” Bokuto averts his eyes and mumbles. “Making you do that stuff to me.”

Kageyama shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

Bokuto suddenly turns and hugs him tightly. “I’m serious.”

Kageyama blinks, then puts his arms around Bokuto and holds him there.

“Thanks for saving me,” Bokuto says. “I…I love you.”

Kageyama laughs a little. He hugs Bokuto tighter. “Yeah. I love you too.”

Bokuto leans back eventually and tucks in his shoulders. “And that’s the last time I check my pocket. Promise. I’m never buying pants with pockets again.”

Kageyama chuckles. “Baby steps.”

“I’m gonna be depressed forever, aren’t I,” Bokuto sighs.

Kageyama shakes his head. “Nah. Until you see a therapist.”

Bokuto hums. “And we’re not going to Atlanta, are we.”

It makes Kageyama’s chest tighten, but he pushes it down for now. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to talk to Suga. See what he thinks.”

“I know what he thinks.”

They just pause again.

“When you talk to Keiji,” Bokuto says, “make sure you tell him that he makes me happy.”

Kageyama nods seriously. “I will.”

“I need to think.” Bokuto turns to lean on the railing again. “It’s been a while since I have.”

Kageyama sighs and leans the same way Bokuto is. “You just need to leave the Porta Potty. It’s too hot in there.”

Bokuto looks at him, then looks forward again. “Yeah. I guess I will.”


	30. 25:35

Back inside, the end credits for the movie are rolling. The ruby slippers are still sitting there in the dirt next to the couch. Everyone looks up at the two of them like they’re expecting something, but they just walk in. Kageyama smiles at Hinata and Suga puts his hand on his chest in relief.

“Good talk?” Kuroo asks.

Kageyama nods and Bokuto says, “Yeah. It’s all good. Promise.”

“I was just gonna hand over the remote so someone can pick next,” Makki says. He holds the remote up to Bokuto and gives him one of the most relaxed, nonjudgmental smiles Kageyama has ever seen. “Issei and I are heading out if you want to take over.”

Bokuto takes it from him. “Thanks, Makki. Thanks for—for coming. And, for not…” He shrugs a shoulder and looks away, embarrassed. “You know.”

“It was cool meeting you,” Makki says calmly. “Consider me one more person on your side.”

“We’re here for you, man,” Mattsun says. He adjusts his glasses, smiling halfway. His arm is around Makki’s shoulders.

Bokuto’s chin starts trembling but he holds it in. “Yeah. Right on.”

Kageyama looks at Hinata again. Hinata winks.

Bokuto clutches the remote, holding onto his arm with his other hand, waiting to see how Akaashi is going to react to his re-entrance. Akaashi is looking at his phone but not looking at it, not looking at anyone on purpose. Still upset, angry, and terrified.

Kageyama faces him. “Okay, dude. Your turn.”

Akaashi looks up at him.

“I’m trying to be brave, so you should too.”

They went with Mattsun and Makki to Makki’s car, then started walking around the apartment complex. There were benches they could have stopped at, but Akaashi just kept moving: _I don’t want to sit. I’m tired of sitting. I want to get on my bike and get out of this._

Akaashi brushes a hand through his hair. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Kageyama puts his hands in his pockets and looks at the asphalt. “Yeah, definitely.” When he looks back up, the rain clouds are closer. He says, “I think one of the coolest things about you is how chill you can be, and like, how good you are at not freaking out about stuff.”

Akaashi sighs. “Don’t do that, Tobio. Don’t go around it.”

“Sorry. I don’t mean it that way. Like, I mean it. I’m always freaking out about everything.”

“You’re just nervous. I just hide it, so say that.”

He shuts his mouth and his ears get hot. This is why he doesn’t say things. He’s just bad at it. “Sorry.”

But Akaashi sighs again, rubbing his face. “No, I am. I’m—everything feels wrong lately. It was bad before, since he started, but ever since Roseneau when he hurt himself and that thing happened and we got the offer from Ukai, it’s just been getting worse. At least I feel that way.”

“No, I agree. Something is…” Kageyama shakes his head. “Something’s off.”

“It doesn’t feel like things are over,” Akaashi says.

“I know.”

“I just really—” His voice cuts off and he looks away from Kageyama. He stops in the middle of the parking lot, bringing his fingertips up to his lips.

Kageyama turns to him. “Are you okay?”

Akaashi huffs and shakes his head, not looking at him. It’s in his voice again, that waver. “I just want at least this to be over. I don’t know how to deal with it and I’m really tired.”

Kageyama’s hands come out of his pockets, but they hang weakly at his sides. If Akaashi cries in front of just him, he won’t know what to do. “Don’t cry.”

Akaashi puts a hand over his face. “God, I know. This sucks, Tobio.” He turns back and looks down at his shirt, at the writing that says have a good time. He holds it between his thumb and bandaged finger. “And this is stupid right now. This is so foolish. I’m not having a good fucking time.”

“Akaashi, please sit down with me.” Kageyama holds a sweaty, nervous palm out toward a bench.

Thankfully, Akaashi gives in.

“It…” Kageyama thinks for a second as they sit and listen to the dog barking. “Sucks that I don’t know what to say most of the time. I just thought you two needed to talk about it now that all the crazy part is over. I wasn’t sure if I should talk to you together or separately. I’m sorry if I’m not doing very well.”

“I’m really glad to have you as a friend,” Akaashi says.

It makes Kageyama blush again, startled. Bokuto saying he loves him isn’t that surprising, but this? “I—me too.”

“And that you’re Koutarou’s best friend.” Akaashi squeezes his eyes shut. “Sorry. I’m too emotional. I’m just…” He sighs and looks ahead. “Sometimes I think about everything that led up to where I am. Not about this situation, but I just think about the past and what I’ve been through to get to this point in my life and my relationships. Thinking about everyone, it’s…strange for me. To have all of you in my life who I genuinely care about. I’ve never been someone who had very many friends.”

_Think, Tobio. This is a moment. What would Hinata say?_

He clears his throat. “Well, it’s—we’re all glad to have you as a friend too, and it’s…good that you’re opening up.”

Akaashi leans back against the bench. “I don’t think people tend to like me. But you all want to have me around, maybe just to help with the band—”

“Yeah, it’s more than that, Akaashi.”

Akaashi glances at him. “I know. I think I know that. I’m just…not used to it.” He draws in a slow breath. “I knew Issei before from a class, but even then, we were only acquaintances. But he invited me to meet you, and you all welcomed me into the group that already seemed so close at the time. For a while, I felt like the odd one out. Suga is so positive, and Kuroo is very driven, and Mattsun is dedicated, and you’re the kind of person everybody would like once they meet you. I didn’t feel like I fit in with the rest of you.”

“Akaashi—”

“It’s okay. I don’t feel that way anymore. We all have something to offer. And besides, meeting Koutarou…”

Kageyama remembers the day—Mattsun introducing Akaashi to all the guys, and Bokuto’s spellbound saucer eyes like Akaashi wasn’t even real. Sometimes Kageyama thinks that Bokuto still hardly believes he is.

“It brought an energy into my life I’ve never known,” Akaashi says. He laughs gently. “And the look on his face.”

Kageyama runs his hand through his hair, still in disbelief of that moment. “He was gone from the instant he saw you.”

“I know.” Akaashi shakes his head. “And I know it took me a while to accept him romantically, but it was just because he’s my first one. He’s the first person I’ve had these kinds of feelings for, and so the first person I’ve ever been with. It wasn’t because of anything other than my own limitations. I even knew about him taking Adderall then, and it was okay. But now…” He shakes his head again. “What am I supposed to do?”

Kageyama looks forward at nothing. “I…don’t know.”

“ _Something_ ,” Akaashi says. “I was supposed to do something, but I just ignored it like I could pretend he wasn’t really doing this to himself. Like he was okay and still happy inside like his face said when I met him.” He puts his hands together.

In the moment, Kageyama realizes he wasn’t the only one who felt like that. Akaashi was just as clueless as him, and maybe they all were. They were bystanders to Bokuto’s suffering and none of them knew what to do about it. It doesn’t change the guilt that Kageyama feels, but it eases the weight.

“Man. That’s literally…” He shakes his head.

“I think we all felt that way,” Akaashi says. “I don’t think any of us wanted to believe it. Especially him.” He lets out another long sigh and rubs his eyes. “God, I am so tired.”

“You barely slept at all last night, did you,” Kageyama says.

Akaashi laughs once without smiling. “And look at everything that happened anyway. Even things I didn’t see.”

Right. What happened at three a.m. when Kageyama just happened to wake up. He might not have ever told Akaashi if Bokuto hadn’t mentioned it, but he did, and so Kageyama has to.

“That was…” He pauses to think, and Akaashi looks up at him with this expectant gaze that’s too hard to hold. He looks down and says, “It might have been the only time you actually were asleep. It was really quiet and I woke up for the hundredth time, and I just had this weird feeling, like this static energy in the air like there was something that wasn’t supposed to be there. He—I went to the kitchen, and he was standing there in the dark holding this paring knife.”

Akaashi closes his eyes, touches his mouth again. He whispers, “Oh god.”

“I told him to put it down,” Kageyama says, “and he said he just makes us worry and that we were going to die.”

“Was he threatening you?” Akaashi asks. Kageyama shakes his head, so Akaashi puts his hand out and frowns, confused and frustrated. “Why does he…why would he say that?”

“I got him to put it down and he said he wanted to go home.”

Akaashi covers his face again. “He says that. He says that even when we’re lying in his bed.”

Kageyama nods at the ground. “Yeah, that’s…what I thought.”

Akaashi looks up at him with those pleading sort of eyes that he’s really tired of seeing from everyone. “I don’t want him to kill himself,” Akaashi says. “I know that sounds obvious, but I just feel like it must be me not being able to make him happy.”

Kageyama shakes his head fast. “No, don’t think like that. You know that’s not it.”

“I know.” He rubs his face. “I know.”

“He asked me to tell you that you make him happy.”

Akaashi blinks at him. “He did?”

“Yeah,” Kageyama says. “He did. He made sure that I would tell you.”

Akaashi looks away and sighs again. “He wasn’t aggressive, was he? Last night when it happened?”

Kageyama shakes his head again. “No. He wasn’t, at all. He’s just…” Kuroo’s voice in his head. “Just really sad.”

Akaashi exhales and brings a foot up onto the bench, wrapping his arms around his knee. “I know he is. That’s really what this is, isn’t it.”

Kageyama gets this sudden impulse, and he turns his body to face Akaashi straight on. “When he got mad at you when we got here—that was fake. That wasn’t him. It was the drugs, okay? He wants you to know it wasn’t really him. It was, like, paranoia and side effects.”

He’s panicking all of a sudden, thinking that Akaashi might use that as a point against Bokuto, which would be totally reasonable but still catastrophic. But Akaashi just smiles a little at him and says, “I know, Tobio. I wouldn’t be with him if he wasn’t a profoundly kind person. And that’s why I didn’t…that’s why I just told him not to talk to me like that. He was hurting.” He gives Kageyama a look. “I told you guys things like that would happen.”

Kageyama blinks at him. Even in this situation, Akaashi is still extremely pragmatic, and very cool. He smiles back. “Well, you were right. Imagine if Suga had been there.”

Akaashi chuckles. “He would have lost it. Or if it was Kuroo—he would’ve said something totally wrong, got after him for acting like that with me. Because _he’s_ the one who should give advice on how to treat people.”

Kageyama snorts. “Dude. What is up with the two of them?”

“Beats me. _Still_ beats me,” Akaashi sighs. “By the way, is Hinata okay after that whole thing?”

Kageyama waves a hand. “Oh yeah, he let it roll off really well. And he’s handling _this_ really well.” He laughs a little. “How did we get here?” Then he stops laughing because it’s not actually funny. Things led up to this, and now here it is. “I mean…” He looks down again. “I don’t even know. How can we even say this weekend and everything was anyone’s fault? Like, when Shou said it was life’s fault, I understood it. I feel like—”

“I blame Koutarou.”

It puts a blockade right in front of where Kageyama was going. “You do?”

Akaashi nods slowly, speaks calmly. “Yes. I blame him. I know that his parents are dead. I know that he’s susceptible, and I know that with where he works and with Daishou and all, it made it harder for him. But _he’s_ taking the drugs. Nobody force-fed him them and stole his money.” He shrugs weakly. “I don’t blame all of it on him, but he doesn’t just get off free. I blame him, Daishou, life, his past and his circumstances. I blame me.”

“Don’t blame yourself.”

“Well, I do.”

He looks back up at Kageyama, squinting in the glare. His hair is soft and his face is perfectly symmetrical and he’s pretty, almost somewhat feminine, but in a neutral, plain way. Kageyama wishes for a second that Akaashi was Hinata in this light, but then it changes to wishing that he himself was Bokuto so that Akaashi would lock eyes with him like this.

“I blame myself for not doing something,” Akaashi says. “And I think we all have some of that guilt, and that Suga was right. We took too long. And.” He puts his foot back on the ground and faces the wall of the building in front of them. “I’m mad. I’m pissed at him.”

Kageyama’s voice comes out too quiet. “How angry are you?”

Akaashi shakes his head again. “I’m really pissed that he did this. That he made us stay here and that he doesn’t care about himself, that he put you through having to find him like that and that he didn’t just go to a hospital.” He lands an intense gaze on Kageyama, and Kageyama closes his mouth from what he was about to say. “Because I know he was unconscious,” Akaashi says, “but I know you didn’t call an ambulance because of his ridiculous conspiracy issues. The EMTs did the best they could for his parents. It just didn’t work.” Kageyama blanches and nods, and Akaashi faces forward again. “And it’s…it’s the intangibility of it all. What can I do? I have no control over anything even though it’s my relationship. I should be able to be mad at all of it.”

Kageyama sits slumped, looking at the same place Akaashi is, trying to figure out what to say. Akaashi is right. It sucks really bad, but he’s right about all of it.

Kageyama clears his throat again. “You—you’re right about that. And I don’t have your perspective. But. Um… I don’t know if being so upset is the right thing to do.” Akaashi looks at him and he puts his hands up. “Like, I get it, believe me. I got mad too, even before this weekend. But I just think, in the end…” He shrugs. “I don’t know. I think he needs more support. He really wants it from you.”

Akaashi just looks at him. “I’m not disregarding that this is hard for you and for the group, but I want you to understand how much different of a difficulty it is for me. The fact that we’re in a romantic relationship makes it a dynamic that you all wouldn’t be able to grasp. And he’s been toxic lately. Not just because of the drugs, but because of his lack of communication and his lying.”

Kageyama shuts his mouth.

Akashi turns back and sighs. “I know that breaking up with him would make him worse, at least in the short run. But it’s an option I deserve to have.”

Kageyama swallows hard. “You’re right. It is. And he knows that. He just…”

“Yeah.” Akaashi leans back again. “I know he does.”

For a while, they say nothing. Akaashi looks up at the sky, around at things, and Kageyama follows his gaze. Spanish moss hangs in the trees and wasps crawl around in the corners of the first-floor overhang, buzzing loud enough that Kageyama can hear them even with the warm breeze. He doesn’t have enough energy to be scared of them. That doesn’t even come close to how scary other things can be.

“I love him,” Akaashi says eventually.

Kageyama turns to look at his profile.

“My family isn’t affectionate. There was only a certain type of love that I knew until I met him. I never really thought I would love someone that way, and I wasn’t sure if I was capable of it, but I fell for him. I’ll never be able to match the amount of affection that he gives me, but I try to keep pace with him in the quality of love I think I can provide. I love him, more than anything. I love almost everything about him.” He takes a breath. “But if he chooses not to change, then there’s nothing I can do.”

“He wants to try,” Kageyama says.

“I’ve thought about leaving him a few times,” Akaashi tells him. “Once, when we were new, over something stupid. I wasn’t used to his level of affection—he likes spending a lot of time together, and he texts me constantly saying he misses me, or asking about my classes, or wanting to tell me what he just read about. I was overwhelmed by the attention.” He laughs at himself. “It would have been foolish for me to leave him then. I learned that, in return for his capacity to care, what he required from me was time put into acknowledging his thoughts. He might not seem like it, but he’s a very patient person. A lot more than me.” He tilts his head. “And then another time, when he wouldn’t shut up about Elon Musk while we were watching _Rocketman_.”

Kageyama laughs. “He loves that guy.”

“Elon Musk or Elton John?”

“Both, definitely.”

Akaashi chuckles. “Yeah. In hindsight, I think he was pretty high then,” he says, and it shuts Kageyama up. Akaashi sighs. “And multiple times since he started taking the new pills, even though I didn’t know it in the beginning. I just knew he was being stranger than usual, how down he would get between doses. And in the last few weeks with him, crying more, hurting himself, it’s made me feel…” He crosses his arms. “The teeth grinding—it makes me nervous. Everything. For the first time, breaking up with him has become a serious consideration because our relationship is no longer healthy, and it’s frustrating and irritating and exhausting. And I don’t even like how _I_ react to his problems. I feel like, from both sides, it just doesn’t work sometimes. We’re already so different and there’s this big issue looming over everything now. Or…there was. I don’t know.”

“It’s _was_ , Akaashi,” Kageyama insists. “I really feel like it’s going to be past tense.”

Akaashi side-eyes him. “You’re supposed to say that it _is_ unhealthy and I _should_ be irritated, and how I react is reasonable.”

“Oh. Well.” _Just try, Tobio, even if it’s hard to talk to him like this_. This is a different Akaashi. He’s seen a different version of everyone now, even in the mirror. “Uh. It is unhealthy, and I did say to him that you have a right to be bothered. And the way you react is—I mean, that’s your way. If it’s, like, what I mean is if, like for you if it’s the best, then that’s—even if maybe for him it can be hard on him, but that’s how you—”

“Okay, you tried, thank you.” Akaashi laughs and sighs at the same time. “I meant that you’re supposed to say it’s okay.”

That, he can do. “It is okay. I think everything you feel is okay.”

“What I feel is ineffective,” Akaashi says quietly. “Everybody is helping. Yamaguchi letting us stay here, Tsukishima bringing food, Hinata helping him with his panic attack—I never could have done that. I hardly know how to take care of people.”

Kageyama says, “Me either.”

“And I can see how nervous Suga is, but he’s here regardless of that or his work as he’s about to graduate. Issei’s parents will kill him if he doesn’t ace his exams, yet he’s still here, even taking some of his time with Makki. Even Kuroo is up there right now.” He waves a hand up at the second floor and Kageyama didn’t even realize they were back to where they started, right by Yamaguchi’s place. “Watching movies with him,” Akaashi finishes. “And you. You probably saved his life. You were _there_ , and Kuroo and Issei were there, and I wasn’t. I feel so guilty.”

Kageyama frowns automatically. “What? You had work—finals are coming up. Nobody can blame you for that. What else were you supposed to do?”

Akaashi sniffs. “I don’t know. Something. Sense it.”

“Sense it? You’re not a robot, Akaashi.”

“I don’t _know_ , Tobio.” He closes his eyes, shaking his head. “It’s been almost two years that we’ve been together. It terrified me. When Kuroo called me, I almost threw up. When I—” His voice tightens and he cuts off, swallowing his tears back down. “When I was with him yesterday, before we all came here when you went to see Hinata, I was in the pile of his clothes I’d dumped on the floor while he was lying on his bed and I just lost it. I couldn’t stop crying. I was _weeping_. I didn’t even know what weeping was before that. And I just sat there in his clothes, choking on my tears, trying not to make any noise because I didn’t know what I would say if he asked me if I was okay. I still don’t know.”

“Listen, Akaashi.” Kageyama faces him again and waits until he looks up. “He’s _never_ going to blame you for not being there,” Kageyama says. “None of us would ever do that.” Akaashi doesn’t look like he believes him, so he says, “I mean it. And if you _were_ there, and he didn’t do it then…he probably would have just done it another time. He didn’t _want_ you there.”

Akaashi looks away again, crossing his arms tighter and holding himself. Kageyama thinks, _You know he would hold you forever right now if you’d just let him._ But maybe Akaashi is doing that on purpose, and all at once the distance he’s been keeping clicks in Kageyama’s head. If he doesn’t return to the closeness he once had with Bokuto, then he can make a clean break.

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better,” Akaashi mutters.

Somehow, it almost makes Kageyama smile. It’s the same line Bokuto said. Despite how different the two of them are in personality, they’re not that different at their cores. They’re both just human.

“He’s always thinking about you,” Kageyama says.

“That’s…”

“Even when you’re not there, he won’t stop talking to me about you. He loves hugging you probably more than anything ever.”

“You’re trying too hard,” Akaashi says. “They’re my emotions to decide, not yours.”

Kageyama nods. He taps his finger on his knee. “I hope that you’ll give him time to show you something. To give you a reason to…” he clears his throat, “well, not break up with him. I don’t know if there’s anything he can _say_ right now that will make a difference, so I think he needs time to, I don’t know, pull himself out of things. You and us being by his side for that will make it a lot easier for him.” He pauses. When Akaashi doesn’t answer, he looks over at him. “I’m like, seriously rooting for you. And seriously trying to convince you. I know it’s not my job, but he’s not very good at doing this himself right now. I want you guys to be happy as easily as possible”

Akaashi rubs a hand over his face. “I can tell.” He laughs a little. “But this isn’t easy.”

“I know.” Kageyama relaxes back against the bench. “Nothing is anymore.”

“I also—I appreciate this, Tobio. We’re together a lot since we don’t play anything, and sometimes I think you don’t say as much as you’re thinking about.”

Kageyama lifts an eyebrow at him. “Uh, look who’s talking.” They laugh and Akaashi shakes his head at him, and he decides to ask, “Do you want a hug?”

Akaashi sighs, then nods. “All right.”

So Kageyama turns to him and leans over. Akaashi wraps his arms around him and gathers his hands in the back of Kageyama’s shirt, clutching them into fists. For a moment, they just stay there, until Kageyama feels Akaashi slowly let go of the fabric and flatten his hands out to press softly into his skin. He turns his face down and inward, resting his head against Kageyama’s shoulder. His breath is steady, warm, tickling at Kageyama’s neck. His fingertips brush along Kageyama’s back and over his spine.

“Tobio,” he whispers. Kageyama can feel the movement of his lips against his collarbone, the heat of his name. Akaashi pulls him a little bit closer.

Kageyama can’t think of what to say. He blinks, looking out at nothing, his arms encasing Akaashi’s thin body, and he feels himself blushing hard. He swallows down his rapid heartbeat and lets Akaashi decide when he wants to pull away.

Eventually, Akaashi’s hands slide away from his back, brushing against his sides.

Kageyama leans back and averts his gaze, rubbing his neck. “Do you…feel better?”

When he looks up, Akaashi has tears dripping down his cheeks, pooling in a soft shine under his eyes. “I’m sorry I just did that,” he says.

Kageyama starts to panic. “Oh, no—it’s fine. It’s okay. Don’t cry.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” Akaashi wipes his eyes with his fingertips. “We spend so much time together, and…”

Kageyama shakes his head fast, hands held up between them. “No, really, it’s okay. It’s okay, Akaashi. This is just a weird time. Don’t—don’t feel bad. Please don’t cry.”

“Koutarou will…I shouldn’t have—” He gets caught on the word and can’t finish. He keeps pushing his fingers at his eyes too hard.

“It was just a hug. Akaashi.” Kageyama grabs his wrists and takes his hands away from his face. Akaashi looks at him, his breath hitching, his lashes stuck together with tears. “It was just a hug,” Kageyama reassures him, looking into his eyes.

Akaashi swallows and lets out a shaky sigh. “Right. I’m sorry.”

Akaashi looks at their hands, and Kageyama lets go of his wrists. “It’s okay.” He clears his throat. “We’re best friends.”

“Thank you for not responding,” Akaashi says. “I’m terrible at this.”

Kageyama shakes his head sincerely. He smiles and says, “If it makes you feel better, Bo hugged me, too. He even told me he loved me.”

Akaashi laughs, a stray tear dripping from the corner of each eye. He sniffs and wipes his face again. “Really?”

“Uh-huh. So, I mean, if anything…” He waits for Akaashi to smile, then says, “It’s okay.”

Akaashi sniffs again and nods. “Will Hinata be mad?”

“I don’t think Shou gets mad,” Kageyama says. “And neither does Bo. Not the real one, and that’s the one who’s waiting for you up there. That’s the one who’s in love with you.” He pauses then says, “He gives way better hugs than me, anyway.”

Akaashi puts his hands over his face. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. I wouldn’t have offered to hug you if I didn’t want to. If I didn’t think it would help.” He pulls one of Akaashi’s hands away again, taking his dainty wrist in his fingers and dipping his head down to look into Akaashi’s face. “ _Do_ you feel better?”

Akaashi heaves a sigh, letting his hands fall to his lap, and nods. “I think I needed to let myself cry again.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama says. “I think so, too.”

“Thank you again, Tobio. I hope that—” His cheeks flush pink. “That you don’t think of me any differently.”

“Like I said.” Kageyama relaxes back against the bench, smiling over at him. “We’re best friends.”

A small smile curves onto Akaashi’s lips. His eyes glitter in the light. “Yeah.”

The Range Rover pulls up and parks. Yamaguchi steps out of the front seat and calls over to them. “Guys, are Makki and Mattsun still here?”

“Just missed them,” Kageyama calls back.

Yamaguchi pouts. “Dang it. I wanted to actually meet him.”

“He might come back with Mattsun later?”

“He said he was driving home after their dinner,” Akaashi tells him.

“Wait never mind,” Kageyama calls. “He loved your plants, though.”

Yamaguchi grins. “Everyone loves my plants, Tobio. Well, next time. Come help me carry stuff up. I went to the grocery store—you’re welcome. And I picked up something for Bokuto.”

Kageyama and Akaashi share a curious look as they stand. As they walk over to the car, Kageyama says quietly, “You’ll talk to him, right?”

Akaashi hums, waving at his eyes to present himself well to the group again, though everyone will know he cried, even if nobody mentions it. “I will. Don’t worry.”

“And you’ll let him hug you?”

He nods, then makes half a smile. “Yeah. I guess I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of my two favorite chapters. I listened to “Her Diamonds” by Rob Thomas right after editing this and maybe cried a little.  
> Thank you again to everyone who has subscribed/left kudos/commented, and is just here to read. I really appreciate it!


	31. 25:55

A documentary about the Grand Canyon is on the TV, but Suga is looking at his phone and Bokuto is sitting on the couch blanked out and staring into space, legs in half lotus and one arm draped over his head, brows down. It’s his thinking face. He looks exactly like Kageyama’s best friend.

Hinata and Kuroo are still on the floor, but now they’re talking to each other. Kageyama freaks out a little. “We’re back,” he calls over, shaking around the paper grocery bag in his arms to get their attention. “Tadashi, too.”

Hinata looks up at him with this almost relieved smile, and it makes him feel like a jealous idiot who really needs to get over it. Hinata has moved on from Roseneau—he should too.

_He literally picked you. Man up, dumbass._

“Dinner?” Hinata asks. He comes over to the foyer.

Kageyama puts the grocery bag on the counter and gives everyone a thumbs up. “Tadashi’s coming behind. He has the last of the groceries and his new plant.”

“Does he need help? I’m literally going to Venmo him.” Suga is already standing to take platters of sandwiches and cookies from Akaashi, who discreetly hides his pink eyes and cheeks. “Look at this,” Suga says. He grins over at Kuroo, showcasing the food as he puts it on the coffee table.

“He’s fine,” Akaashi says. He looks at Bokuto. “He says he has something for you.”

Bokuto doesn’t reply. He’s tapping his fingers on his head.

Akaashi takes in a deep breath. “Hey, Koutarou.”

Bokuto blinks out of it and looks up at him. “Huh?”

“Yamaguchi says he got you something.”

Bokuto’s eyes get a little bigger.

Kageyama moves into the kitchen with Hinata. “Is Bo doing okay?” he asks in a quiet voice.

Hinata nods and matches his volume. “He’s good. He picked this documentary and then announced that he wanted to think.” He glances at Bokuto and shrugs.

Kageyama snorts. “Yeah, he said that.”

“It’s probably an effort for him right now,” Hinata says. “Like, it’s taking a lot of energy, but he’s also putting _in_ an effort, you know?” He smiles. “Is everything okay with Akaashi?”

Kageyama nods, glancing sideways. “Yeah. He’s choosing to be a little less stubborn and give Bo a chance.”

Hinata chuckles. “He can be as stubborn as he wants to.”

“Yeah. Um.” Kageyama clears his throat and looks at Hinata’s face. “He—well, we hugged.”

Hinata tilts his head. “Good.”

Kageyama blushes a little. “Like, with feeling.”

To his surprise and relief, Hinata gives him a gentle, knowing, and completely understanding smile. “I’m glad. I’m sure that all he needed was a little comfort.”

_Shou…I could hug you forever right now._

“Talking to both of them took guts,” Hinata tells him. “Whatever was said or happened, I think you did a good job. I think you should be proud of that.”

Kageyama stares into that way that Hinata locks in on him. His heart is going so crazy in his chest it’s coming up in his throat. “Oh man.”

“I’m saying I’m proud of you.”

“Jesus, Shou.”

Hinata laughs, then says even quieter, “Also, stop freaking out about me talking to Kuroo.”

Kageyama messes with his bangs. “I really need to work on my transparency.”

Hinata smiles, takes Kageyama’s hand, and gives it a squeeze. “Don’t worry.” He tilts his head toward the living room and talks from the side of his mouth for a second. “It was super awkward. He thanked me for helping, I said no big deal. He acts like nothing happened. We just were talking about the band.”

“You didn’t mention the record deal thing, right?” Kageyama asks nervously.

Hinata shakes his head. “Nope. Just uncomfortable small talk. I’m glad you came back in.”

“Oh.” He sighs in relief. “Okay. Nice.”

They look over into the living room: Bokuto and Akaashi sitting next to each other, Suga and Kuroo setting up the food together, Suga saying _These_ while he points at a sugar cookie and Kuroo smiles at him.

“You know,” Hinata starts, “I’ve never just asked you about them, but—”

“We have no idea.” Kageyama shakes his head and takes Hinata’s other hand because he can. He holds them, looking down at the differences in their hand sizes and skin tones. “I’m actually still—” _worried about what happened in Roseneau_ , “trying to figure it out. We’ve all wondered this whole time. Like, years.”

Hinata hums again. “I’ve always thought it looks like there’s something between them. I know the routine thing during ‘Manor’ is like, made up and for the stage, but—I don’t know. I used to be really jealous of Suga, which in retrospect is kind of silly.”

“Nah, it’s not. And it’s not just the routine—it’s the way they are with each other. I swear Suga smiles differently with him. Like, he has his stage smile, his professional smile, and his smile for us, and those are all real—but it’s not the same. And Kuroo only ever closes his door when Suga’s in his room with him.” Hinata raises his eyebrows and Kageyama nods. “So it makes sense, it’s just that nothing makes sense anymore.”

“Totally.”

“After Roseneau…” He looks at them again. “I feel like I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.” In the living room, he can see and just barely hear Kuroo saying, _No one will know_ as he picks up the cookie, breaks it in half, and gives one side to Suga.

“They argue a lot,” Kageyama says. “Especially since Suga started doing research this year and we don’t play weeknights anymore.”

“I bet they do,” Hinata agrees. “I think that the band is what Kuroo has now. It’s his job and his passion and kind of his only thing.”

Kageyama nods again. “That’s what Bo said. That we’re all he has.”

Hinata shakes his head. “It’s different.” They just look for a second longer and then he says, “Anyway, I think Suga likes him.”

“I’m not even sure if Suga is gay,” Kageyama says.

Hinata laughs once. “Well, I’m not sure Kuroo is straight.”

Kageyama blinks. Hinata grins and touches his nose, and he has to swallow his heart down again. At least he’s not in grey sweats this time.

“Okay, let’s put this stuff away,” Hinata says looking past him at the door. “Where the heck is Tadashi?”

The door opens and he comes in on cue, carrying two more bags and a cardboard box. “Help.”

Kageyama rushes over and takes the bags from him. “What’s in there?”

“Hey, Yamaguchi,” Suga calls.

“Hey, guys.” He smiles at Kageyama. “My new slippers. And Bokuto’s little gift. I think he’s gonna like it.”

“What is it?” Kageyama asks. He puts the bags on the counter, looks inside, and his mouth opens again. He pulls out a bottle of Pom. “Dude.”

“Oh, I got that for Mattsun.” Yamaguchi sets the box down on the floor. “I saw it and remembered talking to him about his juice thing in Roseneau. Does he like that brand?”

“Isn’t that the really expensive kind?” Hinata asks.

“This is his favorite brand,” Kageyama says. “And yes. This is liquid rubies to him—verbatim.”

Yamaguchi grins. “Good, I wasn’t sure. But for now, leave all that.” He waves them toward the living room. “I want to give Bokuto his thing.” He kneels down at the box.

“All right, dude,” Kageyama calls to Bokuto. He goes to the couch with Hinata, making this half-circle around Bokuto with him at one end and Akaashi at the other. “You awake?”

With Akaashi actually looking at him again? Yeah. He’s awake. “What’s happening?” Bokuto looks around at them with his totally original non-clone eyes that just have some curiosity and dark circles now instead of all the paranoia and fear.

“Tadashi has—the thing,” Hinata says.

“What is it?” Bokuto blinks at Yamaguchi as he walks over.

He’s holding two succulents, dark green and spiky with little white markings, set inside pots that look like miniature bongo drums. “Tada,” he sings.

Hinata gasps a little and Suga says, “Oh, cool.”

“They’re Haworthia,” Yamaguchi explains. “This one’s venosa and this one’s fasciata, or zebra plant. Spray them with water once a week, okay? Just one spray each.” He smiles and holds them out to Bokuto. “I saw the pot and just had to get it for you, so I picked out these ones cause they’re pretty easy to handle.”

Bokuto stares up at him with huge eyes, and Kageyama has to say, “Take them, dude.”

He lifts his hands, veins still obvious, only flecks of green polish left from him chipping away at it. They’re still shaking, but he holds the drums tight and lets them rest on his lap while he stares down at the plants. “What do I call them?”

“Anything you want,” Yamaguchi says, “but you have to give them names. You have to respect the things you want to take care of. This is new life in your hands.”

“My hands?” Bokuto says.

Kageyama rubs his neck. “That’s called a metaphor, dude.”

Bokuto touches the pointed tip of one of the zebra plant leaves. “Right. That’s right.” He looks up at Yamaguchi. “I will.”

Yamaguchi smiles at him again. “Good. And now I’m going to put my groceries away and then transplant my floor slippers into the pot with my new slippers, and maybe Kuroo can pick out some music and Bluetooth it to the TV, and we can eat and stuff because I’m having nostalgia over our first night in Roseneau suddenly.”

“I’ll get plates for everyone,” Hinata says, and Suga says that he’ll help. The three of them go toward the kitchen.

“Do you want to put them over on the counter?” Akaashi asks Bokuto.

He shakes his head and hugs the plants closer to him. “Nuh-uh, I’m keeping them here so I don’t hurt them. Tobe.” He looks up at Kageyama. “Make sure I don’t hurt them.”

Kageyama laughs. “You got it, Bo.”

Kuroo is looking through the music on his phone and tilts his chin at Kageyama. “I’m thinking Wild Party?”

Kageyama nods, puts his hands in his pockets, and says, “One of Suga’s favorites.”


	32. 30:00

“What song is this?” Hinata asks. “It’s nice.”

Rain trickles down the landscape window at nearly midnight. Kuroo queued Cigarettes After Sex onto the Bluetooth and it plays at a low volume while they all just talk. He and Suga are on the floor looking at something on his phone. Mattsun returned and is crisscross on the couch behind them looking on with his second glass of juice after Yamaguchi made him have more than a few sips for once. Yamaguchi is talking about cactus species with Bokuto and Akaashi after the two of them went upstairs for almost an hour earlier. They talked, and none of them eavesdropped, but they weren’t paying much attention to anything else. They could all hear Bokuto crying at one point, sniffing a lot, and Akaashi might have too—Kageyama hopes so, and he hopes that the hug Akashi promised was long and hard and full of feeling.

Kageyama glances down at Hinata’s orange fluff resting on his shoulder. He smiles. “‘Opera House.’ It’s actually…” He shakes his head and laughs softly.

“What?” Hinata says.

“It’s—”

“We haven’t done this one in a while,” Kuroo says. He looks at Suga and tilts his head toward the TV.

Suga listens, then sings: “ _All of my love for you…cuts me like barbed wire._ ” He smiles. “We were still just vocals and bass. You used to play some of the guitar tones way up on the neck to give them depth, and play a bunch of notes that weren’t there just to harmonize with my voice.”

Kuroo nods. “Inspiration for ‘Garden Terrace.’”

“That,” Kageyama whispers, and Hinata just nods too.

“I could figure out the drum part in two seconds,” Bokuto says. “And Mattsun could do, like, synth I guess.”

They all laugh quietly. Mattsun has a fond look on his face as he flicks Bokuto off by pushing up his glasses.

“It’d be nice to do something so relaxed for once, huh?” Suga says, leaning back against the couch, one knee up. “Things have been…” He widens his eyes.

“A lot,” Akaashi says, and Kageyama says, “Wild,” and Bokuto says, “I’m sorry.”

Suga smiles at him. “It’s okay.”

“It’s cool, dude,” Kageyama adds. _And it’s not just you. We’ve still got a lot more going on than this._

“You think it’s worn off?” Kuroo asks.

Bokuto nods slowly. “Most of it. I feel kind of shitty, but I’m not,” he shrugs, “cloned anymore. At least feeling shitty is feeling like myself.”

Akaashi puts a hand on his arm.

“You look a lot better,” Mattsun says.

Bokuto smiles. “I haven’t looked in a mirror in a week.”

“He hid his face in the bathroom earlier,” Akaashi tells them.

Kageyama raises an eyebrow at him and Bokuto shrugs. “I’m…”

They all sit there waiting. Bokuto’s face is thinking again. He chews his lip, staring, still holding the plants on his lap. His fingers tap the sides of the drums, little irregular beats before they stop and he says, “Mom gave me the gold eyes. And my dimples.”

Nobody says anything. Mattsun looks at his juice, Kuroo puts his phone away and looks at his hands, Suga tries to look at Bokuto but finds it hard. Akaashi puts his hand on Bokuto’s knee this time and squeezes. Hinata sits up a little, and Kageyama watches the realization hit Yamaguchi, understanding going across his face after he was the only one here who didn’t know about Bokuto’s parents.

Bokuto Koutarou: drummer, boyfriend, bandmate, and best friend, but first and foremost a male copy of Fujisaki Aika. Besides his dad’s height, everything is hers—the eyes, dimples, skin tone, nose, teeth, laugh. With her age, when Kageyama first met Bokuto when they were really young, he thought she was Bokuto’s older sister. She was one of those natural earthy people who meditated and read obscure books all the time, and Kageyama felt like she knew everything even though she didn’t get more than a high school education. And she was eighteen when the big event changed her life forever—getting pregnant with her boyfriend’s child. Her true, destined copy.

Kageyama reaches over and puts his hand on Bokuto’s shoulder.

“You have beautiful eyes, Bokuto,” Yamaguchi says.

He nods. “I know. My mom was beautiful.”

Suga opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but he closes it again.

“They were really cool, you know?” Bokuto says. “My parents. I know they were young and weren’t married and…I don’t know. They just loved me a lot. The last thing my dad said to me in the morning was that we were gonna watch _American Beauty_ later and mom’s making breakfast for dinner. And the last thing mom said to me was ‘I’ll see you later, my love.’ She only called me and dad ‘my love.’ It was awesome.” He swallows. “I didn’t tell either of them I loved them. I just told her okay and bye.”

They’re quiet, the song still playing, the rain outside.

“They know you love them,” Hinata says.

Bokuto smiles a little. “Thanks. I guess so.”

“We know so,” Suga says quietly.

Bokuto laughs. “It sucks that you guys never got to meet them. They—they also were really easygoing, too. Mom hated yelling cause her dad used to yell a lot, especially when they came to America. And _my_ dad wasn’t afraid to cry at things even when it was happy, so I guess that’s why I’m so sensitive. Dad bought me my set when I graduated middle school, remember Tobe?”

Kageyama puts a smile on and nods. “For your birthday.”

Bokuto grins down at his plants. “Yeah. But he didn’t tell mom he was going to, and she wasn’t into it because she knew I’d be really loud forever, so when she came in and saw us messing with them she only called him Masahiro the whole day, no ‘Masa’ or ‘my love’ for hours.” He brushes a fingertip along one of the venosa leaves. “But she knew I was good at it right away and she really liked jazz, so a week later, I learned brush technique and played along to ‘It’s Only A Paper Moon’ for her. And I was embarrassed cause I was fourteen playing these drums and my mom made my dad come dance with her, but he was embarrassed too, and she was laughing at both of us. And she kept smiling, and he said ‘See, Ai?’ and she said ‘I see, my loves.’” He pauses, still brushing the leaf. “I only had a snare, kick, one tom, and one crash—I got my other stuff through high school besides my sizzle you guys got me for Christmas. Oh, and I had my hi-hat.”

For a while, he sits there nodding like he’s remembering a lot of things from back then. Kageyama already knew this story, just with fewer details—knew what it was like for Bokuto four or six or eight years ago, and he’s still having to let it sink in. Bokuto has only talked about his parents in short sentences since the accident, angry stabs at that day and the uncontrollable things and himself, little reflective three a.m. knives once in a while before he put them away again with music or work or another pill.

They all look at the same point somewhere in the middle of the room.

“And when she was upset or sad,” Bokuto says. “If she had a bad day at work or there was something on the news, when I was little I would ask her what was wrong and she would hold her arms out and say ‘Nothing for you,’ and she would hug me for a while.” He hums. “You guys would’ve loved my mom. My dad too, but. My mom was…”

“She was the best,” Kageyama says. “She was the nicest lady ever.”

“She sounds like a lovely woman,” Mattsun tells the air. He sips his juice.

“Was Ai her full name?” Hinata asks.

“Aika,” Bokuto says. “Love song.”

Hinata doesn’t reply.

“She used to make this bergamot marmalade,” Bokuto says. “Whenever Tobe would sleep over, we’d finish off half a jar in the morning before school. And she read to me, and sang to me, and she let me brush her hair when I was a kid.” He laughs a little louder this time and says, “Tobe had a huge crush on her when he was eleven. Like, his first time figuring things out as he was starting to go through puberty kind of crush.”

Kageyama feels his cheeks heating up as they all look at him. Hinata raises amused eyebrows. He shifts on the couch and punches Bokuto’s shoulder. “Shut up.” He laughs really awkwardly. “I just—I saw your mom a lot, okay?”

Bokuto grins at him. “Yeah, you popped one that one time she came out of the shower in a towel when you were sleeping over.”

Yamaguchi gasps and Suga does a sudden laugh. Akaashi pinches the bridge of his nose, Mattsun shakes his head, and Kuroo says, “Dude.” Hinata grins at Kageyama like this is really good future blackmail.

Kageyama’s face is bright red and hot but he’s grinning, too. “Come on, man. I was a kid.”

Bokuto laughs. “You’re still a kid, dude.”

“We’re all still kids,” Akaashi says. He means it in a good way, but it still makes them all quiet down and think about it.

“Sometimes I feel like the future is biting at my heels,” Suga says quietly.

Hinata starts drawing shapes on Kageyama’s knee and Akaashi squeezes Bokuto’s again.

“What day is it?” Bokuto asks.

“It’s the ninth, May,” Hinata tells him in his gentle voice. “It’ll be the tenth in…” He looks at his phone. “A few minutes.”

Bokuto laughs once, this weird smile on his lips. “Yeah. Only two months.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Bo,” Kageyama tells him again.

Bokuto nods. “I was thinking a lot earlier, and like, after talking to Tobe and seeing you guys…I realized that the happiness I’ve been using was disposable. To distract me. I’m—” he swallows, “I’m afraid of a lot of things, and I really miss my mom and dad and the life I don’t get to have, and I need to learn how to be happy with that. With what I do have.”

It’s impressive, a big admission and really sentient and brave of him. Kageyama is taken by it—aback and in. Bokuto is really, actually trying.

Kageyama glances at Akaashi. He’s staring at his boyfriend’s face.

Suga says, hesitant, “Bokuto…do you like your life now?”

Bokuto smiles at him. That signature Bokuto: dimples and pink lips and white teeth and shiny eyes, golden like bergamot marmalade, like his mom’s. “Of course I do. My job is whatever, but I love being in this band and living with you guys,” he nods at Kuroo and Mattsun, “and I love all of you a lot. I don’t want any other best friends ever, so I’m just scared.”

Suga blinks, staring into his eyes across the space between them, and then he looks down again because he knows why Bokuto is scared. Everyone in the room knows except Yamaguchi and Kuroo. Kageyama wonders if Suga has decided yet. If tonight makes any difference.

“That’s really good, Bokuto,” Suga says. “That’s…it’s really good.”

“I just need to figure it out,” Bokuto says. “That’s what everyone keeps saying, so I’m gonna do it. I need to prove it to you guys, and I feel like this weekend punched me in the face and I finally get it. Like, the things that make me feel this way aren’t going to change. They can’t. I have to get better in here.” He puts his hand on his chest and leans back further into the couch. “I would take one pill and it was like,” his hand pulls into a fist, wrinkling his T-shirt with it, “whoa, I actually feel good. And then it would go away and I just felt bad again so I took another. And it never actually changed anything. Everything is still the way it is except I’m either high or feeling like extra shit all the time and that’s…” He looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head. “I know now that feeling sad is because I just _am_.”

“And that’s okay,” Hinata says.

“I know, but it sucks,” Bokuto says, looking over at him. “And I would say that I’d go back and change things if I could— _all_ the way back. But I don’t know. Maybe then I wouldn’t have met you guys. Maybe I’d still just be playing drums alone in my room and doing college online cause we could afford it while my parents went to work to pay for me still living in their house. And then Tobe would have moved here without me, and that would be awful, and the band never would have existed.” He sniffs. “And I wouldn’t have met Hinata and Yamaguchi—you guys are really cool—and Tsukishima seems really cool too, and Makki is awesome, dude.” He puts a hand out at Mattsun. Then he sighs and says, “And Kaashi. Keiji.” He looks at Akaashi and brings a hand up to his forearm. It’s shaking, but maybe for a different reason this time. “I really love you. I have to say it more because you could die tomorrow and I don’t want to not say it to you ever.”

Akaashi says, “Koutarou.”

“I love all of you guys. You could just die in an instant. We’re all going to die.” He squeezes his eyes shut and pushes his other hand against them. “I’m really afraid of death, but not because of me—because of everyone else.”

“Don’t think about that, man,” Kuroo says.

Bokuto nods and shoves at his eyes some more. “Yeah. I know.” He sighs and shakes his head again, puts his hand back on his plants. “So, I just—I don’t know. I need to do something about it.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a great job,” Yamaguchi says. “Despite mishaps, and those are okay. I don’t think it’s supposed to be easy.”

“And it’s not gonna be,” Kageyama says. “But you got it.”

“I want it all to stop,” Bokuto breathes out. “The mess in my head and everything at work. The fighting.” He looks at Suga and Kuroo on the floor. “I hate it when you guys fight.”

They glance at each other then look away, Suga at the rug and Kuroo at the wall.

Bokuto laughs gently, closes his eyes, and lays his head back on the couch. “Yeah. You know you fight. You know a lot of things.”

“We’re sorry,” Suga says. Kuroo doesn’t, but he nods.

Bokuto barely hears it. “And there’s so many decisions. I can’t think that much. I know stuff but I’m not very smart. I’m not in college. I’m not like you guys.”

“Don’t say that,” Mattsun tells him. “Opportunity is different from ability. Mutually exclusive.”

“We don’t think any less of you,” Suga says.

“And you know you would’ve if you could,” Kageyama says.

Bokuto laughs a little and keeps his eyes closed. His head falls sideways toward Akaashi, and Akaashi just watches his face. “I’m the failure. I’m the black sheep of us and—”

“Don’t even start that,” Kuroo cuts him off calmly. “Don’t even bother. You know that’s a fucking lie.”

“But I expected an ultimatum.” Bokuto opens his eyes again and looks frantically around at them. “I really—I thought…” He gulps. “I just don’t want to be left behind.”

It’s his greatest fear: abandonment. The true or metaphorical death of everyone else he cares about that leaves him sitting there alone inside himself forever.

“That’s the opposite of what we’re doing,” Kageyama says. “I’m trying to tell you that we want to help.”

“What good are any of us if we just walk away?” Hinata says.

Bokuto looks sideways, shrugging his shoulders up to his neck. “I just hate that you guys all had to deal with this.”

“Remember when we argued Akaashi?” Suga asks him. “Remember when he said he didn’t want our help and we called it because it would’ve been ridiculous for us to just not show up here for you?”

“What did you think we were gonna do, man?” Kuroo asks. “Kageyama and I literally stripped you and carried you to the bathroom. Mattsun helped us, and Akaashi and Suga would’ve teleported to the house if they could have. Yamaguchi has offered his place and Hinata’s here supporting you. You think after all this we’re just gonna drop you?”

“We care about you,” Suga says. “You gave us our band name because it’s what you are and you’re _our_ drummer.”

Bokuto’s eyes are shiny again, listening to everything, to that many words from Kuroo and that title he’s held for two years now. He looks between each of them, squeezing his one hand on his plants and the other on Akaashi’s arm. “I know. I know that, that’s true. I just got so used to—”

Then Akaashi sits up and looks directly into his face. “Stop it, Koutarou.”

Bokuto shuts up, all of them do, and if he blinked, a tear or two might come out, but he’s too busy sitting there shocked, the drops quivering there under his mom’s golden eyes, his mouth open a little, just staring at Akaashi.

“It’s time to stop freaking out,” Akaashi says to him. “It’s over. It’s tomorrow. What did I say when we were upstairs? It doesn’t matter if you’re sad or not, using or not, whatever. You have to let us get upset sometimes because it’s _hard_ , and that’s not because we hate you for it, it’s because it’s painful. We want you to stop getting hurt and shaking and being so scared of things because stuff happens, okay? Inevitable things happen and there’s nothing we can do, and like you said, sometimes we might not change it down the line. You have every right to be unhappy, but we just want you to be okay. Everyone else here knows that. So tell me you believe me.”

Bokuto’s lips are moving, trying to figure out anything to say in return. Kageyama wonders if he’ll actually say yes, if things are getting through to him this quickly after one weekend. For some reason—maybe just his hope for it, Hinata’s voice telling him it’s going to be okay and they’ll figure it out, or the realization that it’s been a lot more than just this weekend—he feels like it might be true.

Bokuto says, “I believe you, Kaashi.”

“Say you believe everyone.”

“I believe you guys.”

“Say you believe yourself.”

It takes him a second. “I do. I’m really trying, Kaashi, I swear. I believe everything.”

“Good.” Akaashi relaxes and sits back again. He folds his arms over his midsection and says to everyone, “Sorry.”

“No way, dude,” Kageyama says, because Akaashi hasn’t tried harder until this point. That was the bravest thing he’s done.

Akaashi crosses his arms tighter, embarrassed, and nods.

Bokuto has massive eyes at him and the room and his existence.

“ _I_ believe you,” Yamaguchi says, holding an awed hand to his chest.

“I believe Bokuto,” Hinata says. “He made it through the weekend—he can do anything.”

Bokuto blinks at him.

“You’re gonna do it, Bo.” Kageyama says it with this easy finality, and the fact that it takes no courage at all, that it’s just the only thing left to be said, is liberating. He shrugs. “You kind of have no choice. You’re too far out of it to go back.”

“Fact,” Mattsun says.

And Suga agrees, “End of discussion.”

“One more thing.” Kuroo looks right at Bokuto. He tilts his jaw when he asks the question, “Who’s Daishou again?”

Bokuto blinks at him, too. “Daishou?” He pauses; hardly a pause at all. “Daishou’s a piece of shit.”

Kageyama grins, puts his hand on Bokuto’s shoulder again and shakes it. Mattsun raises his glass. Kuroo nods coolly.

“I don’t even know Daishou and I agree,” Yamaguchi says.

“My ex-dealer,” Bokuto tells him.

Yamaguchi raises his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah, fuck that guy.”

The rest of them laugh, and Hinata tells them all to mark this day as the first time he’s ever heard Yamaguchi swear. “Known him for eight months and it’s never before seen.”

“Once in a lifetime opportunity,” Yamaguchi agrees, giggling. “It felt appropriate.”

Their laughter dies down. The song has changed to another, an easy swaying drumbeat and bassline. Bokuto hugs his plants closer to his stomach and suddenly does a huge yawn. It goes around the room.

“I bet you’re beat,” Kageyama says to him.

“I bet we’re all beat,” Hinata says, covering his mouth.

“I still have my paper to work on,” Mattsun says.

Kageyama snorts. “Jesus, man, go home then. Thanks for bringing Makki.”

“We can take you back,” Kuroo offers them. “Get you off Yamaguchi’s hands. Landlord says we’re clear and we should buy a broom.”

Bokuto smiles—this sleepy, loopy look that Kageyama will take any day over glowing orange clone eyes in the middle of the night. “Yeah. Sounds good.” He looks at Yamaguchi. “We have to help you clean up or something.”

“Please let us,” Suga says.

Predictably, Yamaguchi shakes his head and grins. “No, it’s totally fine. I kind of have a system anyway. And I have to rearrange all my plants back downstairs. It’s weird with them watching me while I sleep. No offense.” He gestures to one of his hanging pothos.

Bokuto nods like he gets it perfectly. “They really see everything.” He tilts his face up to the room, all the plants in the apartment. “I’m sorry, guys.”

“It’s funny because this isn’t even him being tired,” Mattsun explains.

Yamaguchi laughs. “I’ll take it.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do?” Suga asks him.

“Like I said,” Yamaguchi says, “a signed copy when you go platinum.”

Kageyama bites his tongue and makes a point to not look at Kuroo for his complete lack of knowledge, or at Suga for his omniscience over it. They have one day left to make their decision.

“And that we hang out soon under bet—” Yamaguchi shakes his head a little and changes his words, “different circumstances.”

“That we can do,” Suga tells him. “Thank you again.”

“And Tobio can keep the shirt.”

Kageyama looks at himself, Huntington Beach and pink. He considers saying that he’ll change, or asking if he’s sure, but Yamaguchi will just insist. And honestly, he could use another tee. “Thanks. Also, we have to get Shou home,” he says. Hinata looks up at him.

“We’re dropping Suga off if you want us to take you home,” Kuroo says. “Where—”

“Tobe and Hinata should just squish up on the couch.” Bokuto closes his eyes and sniffs like everything is totally obvious and casual. “Tobe can handle it. He’s older now.”

Kageyama blushes hard. He hesitates to look sideways at Hinata.

“I mean, if you guys are okay with that,” Hinata chuckles, equally casual. “I’m sure Tsukki will appreciate me not coming in so late.” He looks at Kuroo and Mattsun to ask.

“We’ve had plenty of Saturday night guests before,” Mattsun says, “but we actually know you this time.”

A huge pause in the room.

Jesus. Nobody has ever called Kuroo out so hard and so succinctly before. Mattsun has gotten fearless now that he has a boyfriend. And he’s sure they haven’t slept together yet?

“Dude?” Kuroo says, and somehow he’s smiling a little too. “Fuck off.”

Mattsun shrugs, sipping the last of his juice.

Hinata smiles up at Kageyama and his heart races.

“Come on.” Suga stands up, a hint of triumph in his voice after Mattsun’s shots fired. “Let’s leave Yamaguchi be.”

They get up, Kuroo disconnecting his phone from the Bluetooth, the rest of them taking dishes into the kitchen with Suga feeling bad about leaving them there and Yamaguchi waving him off. They grab backpacks and bags and Pom and the keys to the van, thanking Yamaguchi a final time. He looks ready for them to go, though he’d never say it, and just smiles like he always does. Kageyama will definitely get him something from the next plant sale.

And soon, they jog through the rain, which lets up as they’re getting in the van. Hinata and Mattsun take the end seats with Kageyama, Bokuto, and Akaashi squished in the middle. Bokuto leans against Akaashi with his eyes closed and hums something; Akaashi holds the succulents in his lap. Kuroo rolls down his window for his first cigarette in hours, and it makes Kageyama wonder about nicotine addiction and just why it’s so different, but it’s too much to think about now and doesn’t really matter.

As they’re driving to Suga’s place, the roads nearly empty at half midnight, Mattsun says, “Play something good.”

“What do you want to hear, Bokuto?” Suga asks. He turns around in the passenger front to look at him.

But Bokuto is totally out—mouth open, snoring, and everything.

Kageyama laughs, relaxing back into his seat with Hinata smiling next to him. “Anything,” he says. “Take us home.”


	33. 00:00 | RESTART

_SUNDAY_

* * *

Noises down the hall wake Kageyama up. The arm behind his head is completely numb. He has one leg hanging off the couch and Hinata’s head on his stomach, still sleeping. He squeezes a weak fist over and over and tries not to move too much, breathing manually because he doesn’t want to wake Hinata up. Did he twitch a lot in his sleep?

Memories from last night flood into his head. Bokuto is okay.

Footsteps bring Kuroo to the living room threshold, headed to the kitchen. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Kageyama says. “What time is it?”

“Ten-thirty.” Kuroo turns on the coffee maker.

“Oh.” He yawns.

Kuroo tilts his chin at the two of them. “You guys good?”

Kageyama balks all of a sudden. He’s supposed to be getting over it—everything that happened with Kuroo—but he’s still a little jealous. Screw neutrality, screw being bros. He _likes_ Hinata.

_Stop screwing with me, dude. Why are you even asking? Yeah, we’re good._

_Just address it and get it over with, Tobio. Come on._

“You knew I liked him then,” he says, quiet enough that he hopes Hinata won’t hear.

Kuroo is in the middle of putting a cigarette in his mouth. Even accused, he barely makes an expression. “I wasn’t sure, you weren’t saying anything. He wanted it.” He pulls out his lighter.

_Shut up. I know that. Don’t rub it in._

Kageyama stares up at Kuroo, craning his neck around as Kuroo moves along the kitchen counter. “What’s up, Kuroo? Like, what’s your deal?”

“You’re asking me that?” He lights and drags.

“Why not? He’s my boyfriend now.” _He’s over you._

“Congrats, dude. Seriously. You guys seem,” Kuroo shrugs, “cool.”

“I—” He stops. “Thanks. What the hell?”

Hinata stirs against him.

“What do you want?” Kuroo asks.

Kageyama is baffled. “Is that it?”

Kuroo takes his cigarette from his lips. “What else?”

It hits Kageyama in the gut. _Nothing_. Nothing else. Is an apology even in order? Hinata accepted what was offered. There isn’t anything he can do about that except come to terms with it. Respect the decisions Hinata chose to make, even if he doesn’t like them.

Time to get over it, once and for all.

_Well,_ he thinks to Kuroo, _you’re an asshole and you need to figure your thing out_. He says, “Okay.”

“Suga’s gonna come over when everyone’s awake,” Kuroo says, opening a cabinet.

Kageyama blinks. “And what about him? What about Suga?”

Kuroo stares at him. “I said he’s coming over later, man.”

And Kageyama stares back. “Why do you close your door?”

“Morning, boys.” Akaashi stands in the threshold, putting his hand in the pocket of a pair of Bokuto’s tartan pajama pants. He looks at the both of them, telling them to shut up with his eyes. “Tell me you’re making coffee.”

Kuroo takes out two mugs, then looks at Kageyama. “Want any?”

Hinata pulls himself out of sleep and sits up. “Coffee?” He rubs an eye. “Do you have milk?”

“Mattsun buys creamer,” Kuroo says, like nothing they were just talking about matters.

“Even better.” Hinata smiles at everyone. “Morning.”

“Hey,” Kageyama says. He smiles at Hinata—his boyfriend, not Kuroo’s, not a toy, a person—and then drops it when he looks back into the kitchen. “I’m good.”

Kuroo just takes out a third mug.

“Does anyone know what time Mattsun went to sleep?” Akaashi asks.

“Mattsun got in bed at three,” Mattsun’s voice says. He opens his door and comes down the hall. He shoves his glasses on and rubs at his hair. “Mattsun wishes he wasn’t awake, but he finished his Wednesday paper. Big Father will be appeased. Mattsun will feel better with juice.”

Kuroo finds a glass too.

Kageyama nods at Mattsun. “Hey, dude. Just need the man of the house now.”

“He’s awake.” Akaashi thumbs at the bedroom. “Just give him a second.”

Bokuto groans from under his covers. “Just give me like—many seconds. My head hurts. I love you.”

Kageyama sighs and Hinata giggles.

Kuroo gets one more glass. “I’ll text Suga.”

“I barely remember getting here.” Bokuto leans his elbows on the kitchen table and pushes his hand through his multicolored hair, different faded shades of purple and his black streaky roots. They were here less than two days ago, the same formation minus Hinata, and terrified about everything. They pulled over both Mattsun’s and Bokuto’s chairs this time. Bokuto is groggy, tired, and has a hell of a headache, but he’s okay. He stepped out from the heat and the dark and came back into some sunlight.

“You fell asleep before we even made it to my place,” Suga tells him, smiling gently. He brought bagels because they were on sale for five dollars a half dozen, and they gave him a seventh for free—the old lady at the counter said he was handsome.

“We woke you up to get in the house and you collapsed on your bed,” Kageyama says. “Akaashi tucked you in.”

Bokuto smiles at Akaashi then looks down at his bagel half, smothered in peanut butter because Akaashi said he needs the fat, with one bite taken out of it. “Well, it’s…good to be home.”

“How are you feeling?” Suga asks.

Bokuto grins. “Ecstatic.”

Hinata, chewing on a cinnamon raisin bagel he’s holding in both hands, glances sideways at Kageyama. Mattsun says, “Bro.”

Bokuto laughs. “Too soon? Just kidding. I know I’ll keep feeling bad for a while. I apologize in advance, Kaashi.”

“We’re the ones you live with,” Kuroo says over the rim of his black coffee.

Bokuto shrugs. “Yeah, but I’m not trying to make out with you. Unless you wanted to.”

Kuroo sighs. “Hard pass.”

Suga takes a breath and says, “Well—we’re proud of you, Bokuto.”

“Are you gonna go back to Jack’s?” Hinata asks.

Bokuto looks at his bagel again and shrugs. “I guess not. After this weekend, I’m definitely fired even if I explain myself for not showing up. When Kaashi gave my phone back…” His eyes get wide. “Texts and calls everywhere. Daishou is…” He shakes his head.

“Just resign,” Mattsun says. “If you can.”

Bokuto hums. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“You know a lot of people and you have experience,” Suga tells him. “It’ll work out.”

Bokuto doesn’t say anything.

“And Tsukki has this doctor he used to see,” Kageyama says. “She does free first sessions.”

Bokuto squints at his bagel. He takes a tentative bite and gets peanut butter on his nose. “Hm.”

Kuroo looks at him. “Get with it, man. It’s time to stop being scared of things. Including therapists.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just—” He blinks as Akaashi reaches over and wipes the peanut butter from his nose with his finger. “I—feel stupid about it.”

“Don’t,” Hinata says.

The words _Your parents would want you to_ come to Kageyama’s mind, but they won’t really help, and Bokuto probably already knows that anyway. He watches Bokuto scratch his upper arm and suddenly it hits him. “Oh my god. Bo.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “We never cut your new ribbon. The roll is in your room, I’ll—”

Akaashi cuts him off. “Wait.” They all look at him and his cheeks get a little pink. “I was actually…” He goes into the pajama pants pocket again and pulls out a ribbon, untied and wrinkled near the middle. He turns to his wide-eyed boyfriend. “We cut ours the same size when we first got them, right? Matching?” He holds it out toward Bokuto. “Have mine. You guys can cut me a new one. Take mine.”

The bagel nearly falls out of Bokuto’s grasp. He catches it and puts it down on the table. “Kaashi…are you sure?”

“Think of it as…” Akaashi is definitely blushing. “Me waving a flag,” he says quietly. He waves the ribbon a little.

Kageyama’s heart is singing in his chest.

“It’s three feet four inches,” Akaashi says. “Have it.” Bokuto starts to take it, but then Akaashi pulls it back a little and his cheeks get redder. “And—you taking it—you’re remembering your promise. Right? To everyone.”

Bokuto nods. “I’ll do it, Kaashi. I promise.”

Akaashi nods and tries to hand the ribbon to him, but Bokuto turns and gives Akaashi his arm. Akaashi blushes badly while he ties it on him. He lets his hand rest on Bokuto’s arm for a moment.

Bokuto’s ribbon meant a lot to him before, but now…

A truce. A fresh start. New game, new life.

“Nice,” Kageyama says. Mattsun raises his glass again, so everyone else does too. Bokuto looks like he’s going to cry, and Kageyama puts an arm around his shoulder.


	34. Grand Finale

_TUESDAY_

* * *

“Did it go well?” Hinata asks him.

They’re headed to the house after he got Hinata from his dorm. He woke up early for his physics exam at 8:30, which he turned in with six minutes to spare. “Who knows,” Kageyama sighs. “I feel all right about it.”

“People who go into tests extremely confident usually don’t do as well as others who are a little nervous,” Hinata says. “That’s a fact.”

Kageyama hums. “That’s actually reassuring.”

Hinata smiles at him. “Are you nervous about today?”

Kuroo isn’t invited to lunch with Tsukishima and Yamaguchi today, not only because he’s a vibe killer, but because Suga and Akaashi called Ukai yesterday and gave him the decision. Everyone but the two of them are in the dark on it.

“Yeah, a little,” Kageyama says. “I’m gonna reverse psychology Kuroo.”

Hinata raises an eyebrow. “How?”

“He won’t want to come anyway,” Kageyama says, “but if nobody asks him before we all head out, he might try to since nobody told him. So, if I ask him outright, he’ll automatically say no.”

Hinata makes a _Not bad_ face. “Smart.”

Kageyama puts a hand over his chest. He’s back in his navy and white tie-dye hoodie and only sweating a little because he’s anxious. Otherwise, things are doing way better than the weekend. They’re still figuring it out, but his best friend is all right and his boyfriend is cuter than ever.

“Hey, Shou?”

“Hmm?”

“I can call you my boyfriend, right?” They haven’t said it officially yet, but he already bragged to Kuroo about it. It would be really embarrassing to have to take it back.

Hinata smiles at him. “Yeah, I figure it’s appropriate. After yesterday.”

No classes and no obligations meant letting Akaashi take Bokuto duty and hanging out in Kageyama’s dorm with Hinata all afternoon while his roommate was at exams and afterparty. They cuddled and listened to The Killers, talked about space and watched comedies on Netflix. Kageyama learned that Hinata is really good at making out.

He smiles back. “Nice.”

“You’re a way better kisser than him, by the way,” Hinata says. “At least for what I like. You’re more gentle.”

Kageyama stops in his tracks.

Hinata turns back with a concerned expression. “Wait, sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up—”

But Kageyama says, “Score.” He squeezes his hands into fists. “Score score score.”

Hinata shakes his head at him. He walks over, raises onto his toes, and pecks Kageyama on the mouth. “Do you hear that?”

Kageyama would grab his waist, pull him close or lift him up, and forget about talking or listening to anything, but they’re outside in broad daylight. Instead, he listens to the sound of faint tapping and takes Hinata’s hand. “Yeah. I bet you ten bucks,” he says. He starts pulling Hinata along.

“Do you even have ten bucks?” Hinata teases. “On what?”

Kageyama smiles. “Touché. And that he’s on the roof.”

“The _roof_?”

In a few minutes, at their street, he displays his free hand out to Bokuto, crisscross on the shingles with his snare in his lap. He’s playing with traditional grip and cracking rimshots. His turquoise tank top exposes him to the sun, but he’s at least wearing jeans today so he isn’t grilling himself. Ten more bucks that the pants are Akaashi’s doing. His bike is leaning up against the porch.

Kageyama grins at Hinata. “See?”

“Welcome back,” Bokuto calls down. He’s frowning out at nothing, concentrating while he plays random rolls.

“What’s up?” Hinata calls back. He lowers his voice and asks, “Does he do this often?”

“I didn’t really have ten dollars to bet,” Kageyama answers.

“Not me,” Bokuto says. “Kaashi told me it’s a nice day out.”

Kageyama shades his eyes. “Does he know you’re up here?”

Bokuto starts doing drag rudiments, hitting the grace notes but lagging on the notes between. “He watched me climb up. Made sure I was safe.”

“One handed?” Hinata asks.

Bokuto shrugs. “I guess so, huh. He made me put on pants.”

“He climbs up from the kitchen window,” Kageyama explains.

“Ohhh…” Hinata lifts an eyebrow.

Kageyama snorts. “Wanna come in and get ready?” he calls.

Bokuto misses another rimshot and then stops, slouches, puts his sticks in one hand, and finally looks down at them. “I’m all thrown off, Tobe. Three days feels like three aeons.” He shoves his hair out of his face.

“Muscle memory,” Kageyama says. “You never play traditional snare, anyway.”

Bokuto hums, sticking his lip out. “Right.”

“It’ll wear off.”

Bokuto meets eyes with him from up where he’s sitting. “What? My depression?”

“Sorry.” Kageyama rubs his neck. “Came out wrong.”

“Do you think they’ll have pancakes, Hinata?” Bokuto stands up, bare feet on the shingles, holding his snare by the shell. The jeans cut off at the ankles. “I should probably get pancakes.”

Hinata shrugs. “Most likely. It’s a brunch café.”

“Good. This roof is really hot.” He looks down at his feet.

Kageyama snorts again and leads Hinata to the door. “Meet us inside, Bo.”

Bokuto waves his sticks in the air.

Mattsun’s door is open inside. He sits at his desk with his laptop open, talking on his phone with probably Makki about his last paper, probably asking his opinion. He salutes them when they walk in.

“Hi,” Hinata says, waving back with his hand not holding Kageyama’s. He looks over his shoulder at Kageyama closing the front door. “You guys really do need a broom.”

“Hey, I don’t live here.” Kageyama puts his hands up in innocence.

Hinata puts his hand on his face.

Kuroo is on his bed with Darla hooked to his amp as he writes in his notebook. He tilts his chin at them. “Same new song?” Kageyama asks.

Kuroo nods. “Keeps changing.”

“Cool.” He shifts on his feet and squeezes Hinata’s hand. “You wanna come with us all to lunch today or something?”

Kuroo just looks at him. “I’ll pass. Shut the door some.”

“Loud and clear.” He pulls the door three quarters closed.

“Yeesh,” Hinata says, hushed. “Not much reverse psych, huh?”

Kageyama grins and puts a finger to his lips, leading him down the hall. As they pass the bathroom, he pushes the door closed so the pastel green and the tub aren’t visible anymore. Baby steps.

Bokuto’s bare foot appears at the top of the kitchen window, the still-pink scar on his ankle. “Crap. Help me out.”

They go and Hinata takes the snare, looking at it in his hands while Kageyama makes sure Bokuto doesn’t break something getting down from the counter. “Really, Bo?”

Bokuto looks at the window, confused. “Up was way easier than down.”

Kageyama scoffs. “Isn’t that the truth.” Hinata gives him a look. “Yeah, my bad again.”

“It’s cool,” Bokuto says. “Babe.” He leads them across the hall, clicking his sticks.

His floor is still covered with beads and books are strewn about with him spending so much time at home. His plants—Bon and Go—sit on his windowsill, and his laptop screensaver slideshows through different pictures of small birds he picked out one time when he was high.

Akaashi is lying on his bed reading the back of a book. He looks up at them when they walk in. “Hey. Everything okay?”

Bokuto hums and nods. “You were right, it is a nice day. Do you need anything? Do you like that book?”

“I’m okay,” Akaashi says. “And I just looked at it.”

Bokuto takes the book from him—something about particle physics—and holds it up to all of them. “It means this is a simulation.”

“Does it?” Kageyama asks. The bass starts up from Kuroo’s room, smooth notes.

Bokuto shrugs. “Yeah. I don’t know. It would make things easier to deal with.” He sniffs. “Cause it’s like, everything is rigged.” Nobody knows what to say, and he groans and rubs his eyes with the backs of his hands. “I’m not gonna cry, you guys. I just feel like crying.” He puts the book down, takes the snare from Hinata and puts it on his desk chair with his sticks. He climbs onto the bed and sits crisscross. “Kaashi, can you paint my nails?”

Akaashi sits up with him. “We’re about to leave. You’ll mess them up.”

He pouts. “Okay. Later. I want sparkly.”

He smiles at Akaashi, and Kageyama imagines him beaming instead and grasping Akaashi’s hand and kissing it and kissing Akaashi’s head and his mouth in front of them. But Bokuto’s head is still not doing what his body feels like, and Akaashi’s head is still making his decision. Tiny baby steps.

“What time are we meeting T and T again?” Kageyama asks.

“Eleven,” Akaashi and Hinata say.

“Let’s get Mattsun then?” When he looks down at the floor for Bokuto’s shoes, he sees the purple Ziploc, lying there hidden under the edge of the bed. His mind flashes to the image of Bokuto sitting down, blacking out, and dropping the bag next to him however many minutes before Kageyama showed up. His stomach threatens him, but he swallows it down and instead, he steps forward and picks the bag up. “Hey, Bo?”

Bokuto’s eyes get intense, scared, and his hand comes up to the ribbon on his arm. “Throw that away, Tobe.”

Kageyama holds it out to him. “You wanna do the honors?”

Bokuto leans closer to Akaashi and shakes his head. “No, no, get rid of it.”

Kageyama smiles halfway, goes to Bokuto’s trash can, and shoves the bag down into it. He glances around and plucks a tissue from the box on Bokuto’s desk. He lays it gently over everything in the trash so it’s all just white. “Well. That’s that done, huh?”

Bokuto heaves a huge sigh. “Finally.”

Someone knocks on the front door. They look over at the sound, then Kageyama raises an eyebrow at Akaashi. “We didn’t ask Suga to meet us here, did we?”

Akaashi shakes his head.

The bass is silent. Kuroo’s boots are already going to open the door.

“Hey, man, long time no see,” a voice says. “Kou home?”

“Kou?” Kuroo and Akaashi say at the same time.

Bokuto’s eyes get huge, but he’s too pale already to lose any more color. “Oh. It’s.”

_Great_. “Daishou?” Kageyama says quietly.

Bokuto nods. “What do we do?”

Kageyama shrugs. He’s nervous, yeah, but mostly he’s annoyed. Daishou just ruined this moment. He says, “We go talk to him.”

“Is that safe?” Akaashi asks.

“What if he’s gonna, like, kidnap me?” Bokuto looks between Akaashi and Kageyama.

“Shou, stay here, okay?” Kageyama says, touching Hinata’s wrist. Hinata says, “Tobio,” but Kageyama just looks hard at Bokuto. “There are six of us and one of him. And he doesn’t look that big either.”

Bokuto says, “Yeah but—”

“It has to end at some point,” Kageyama says. “Besides.” _Am I really saying this?_ “We have Kuroo.” Bokuto hunches up his shoulders and Kageyama says, “Come on. Grand finale.” And then he walks out into the hallway, and Akaashi follows him and so does Hinata, and Bokuto trails last.

“—just need to talk for a second,” Daishou is saying. He stands there at the top of the steps with his hands in the pockets of his pants. “We met a while back, right?” he says, motioning between him and Kuroo. “We’re cool.”

“You’ve got a lot to figure out.” Kuroo takes a step out onto the porch.

Kageyama goes out next to him. Bokuto peeks his head over their shoulders. “Daishou, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“No,” Kuroo says. “He won’t.”

Whatever Kageyama expected after seeing him at Jack’s that one night, this wasn’t really it. Max five-ten, clean cut and clean shaven, perfect hair, pretty-boy face, and overall kind of underwhelming. A really fake smile that doesn’t cover up what his eyes give away. The Porsche is parked on the street behind him, shiny in the sun, puny next to the van.

“Yeah, good try,” Daishou says. He starts reaching his hand out between them, toward Bokuto.

Kageyama means to push Bokuto back but ends up pushing Daishou’s hand away. Daishou looks like he’s this close to slugging him in the face with it because he’s the easier target between him and Kuroo. But courage for this kind of thing just isn’t that hard anymore. “Don’t touch him, dude,” Kageyama says.

Daishou puts his fist back down. He’s wearing an expensive watch, too. “You’re the escort, huh?”

“Just please leave,” Bokuto says, voice higher than usual.

_Wait,_ Kageyama thinks. _Escort, like, me bringing him to work or you calling him a fag?_ “Huh?”

But Daishou is looking past him, leaning to see into the hallway. “Don’t we have a class together? Stats one with Johnson, period three? Exam is tomorrow?”

Kageyama turns to glance at Hinata and he glances back, standing next to Akaashi with his arms by his sides, fingertips touching his shorts. “I guess?”

Daishou tilts his chin at him. “I sit at the top. You ask a lot of questions.”

Hinata looks sideways. “Okay.” He crosses his arms uncomfortably.

Kageyama might be angrier, except that Hinata is really good at taking care of himself. And this guy isn’t worth this past weekend. Now Kageyama gets everything Kuroo said about Daishou, the attitude he had, _Cocky prick with privilege._ And Tendou: _Just kind of a douche all around._ He’s just a student, their age, in the same classes, majoring in history. They’ve been giving him way too much power.

He turns back to Daishou and sighs. “Dude, can you get on with it? We have, like, stuff to do.”

Daishou pulls on a venomous smile. “I’m sure you do, tie-dye. I’m here for Bokuto. We work together, okay?”

“Yeah, we know.” Kuroo leans himself back against the wall and kicks a Doc toe down on the porch. Kageyama predicts his next move, and for once, it’s actually cinematic. Kuroo brings a hand to his pocket, takes his cigarettes and lighter in the same grip, and shakes one out. “How much?” he asks.

Daishou’s brow twitches and he lands a look on the Newports box. “This is between me and—”

“He’s off it.” Kuroo lights, capping his lighter with a _chink_. He draws in deeply and blows it over Daishou’s shoulder, just far enough from his face to make it accidental. “How much does he owe you?”

Behind Kageyama, Bokuto shifts on his feet and says nothing.

Daishou grimaces at the smoke. “Three-fifty. And that’s a great joke.”

That’s fifty away from his entire month’s rent. How many pills would that have gotten him?

“Jesus, Koutarou,” Akaashi says.

Daishou looks Akaashi up and down. “Holy shit, you really do have a boyfriend. You’re into the feminine type, huh?”

“Fuck you, Daishou,” Bokuto says.

“Fuck me?”

“Shut up,” Kuroo says. “What are you, twenty?”

“I _am_ off it,” Bokuto says. He wedges between Kuroo and Kageyama, but not very far. “I’m getting clean. I made a promise.” He angles his arm away, protective over his new ribbon.

Daishou scoffs. Kageyama suddenly notices blood ringing his nostril and figures the Jack’s employee bathroom is well provided for. “Good luck with that,” Daishou says. “You look like shit. And you still owe me.”

“You know this actually is private property,” Kageyama tells him.

Daishou glowers at him. “I could buy a hundred of this house.”

“Then why do you need three hundred dollars so bad, man?” Mattsun calls out from his bedroom.

_Okay, Tobio, don’t laugh right now. Don’t freaking laugh._

Kuroo cracks a smile. “He’s got a great point.” He taps his ashes, casual.

Daishou’s face twists, confused and angry. “What the fuck is wrong with you people? This is business. It’s basically theft.”

“I see your ethics are straightened out,” Hinata says.

“And you should really get off the blow,” Kageyama says. “Bad for your capillaries.”

Glaring, Daishou brings a finger up under his nose.

Bokuto makes a noise, psyching himself up, and pushes all the way between them this time. “Your three hundred fifty dollars almost killed me, Daishou. You—you _suck_.” Daishou’s brows go up and Bokuto plants his bare feet in the wood. “I’m susceptible and you knew that, and you just fattened me up and used me to sell to because all you care about is money and your stupid car. But guess what—we work at the same freaking restaurant. You don’t care about me or anyone else you turn into addicts. I know you sell more than just Molly. I was just, like, some good little boy to you, always coming back for more. If anything,” he points a finger at Daishou’s face, “ _you’re_ the gay one.”

Daishou seethes. “That doesn’t make any _fucking sense_.”

He takes a step forward. Bokuto cringes back and Kageyama puts his arm across him, but none of it really matters because suddenly Kuroo’s hand connects with Daishou’s face. There’s a strange cracking noise and Daishou yelps, brings both hands to his nose, and doubles over.

“Holy shit,” Akaashi breathes.

Kageyama watches Bokuto run back to Akaashi. He looks at Hinata’s startled face at the scuffle and Daishou’s broken nose. He looks at Kuroo, standing there looking calmly at his palm—the same hand he’s holding his cigarette in. He didn’t even drop it.

He thinks at Daishou, _Now your nose is_ really _bleeding, huh?_

He stifles a sadistic grin.

“Fuck.” Daishou brings one hand away with blood on it. He tilts his head back, squeezing his nostrils, pain tears dripping from the outer corners of his eyes. “You—my _face_.”

“Whoa,” Kuroo says. He takes another drag.

“You’re a coward,” Daishou spits at Bokuto, wide-eyed and clutching his ribbon. “What the fuck.”

“You’ll get your three-fifty when you get it, man,” Kuroo says. “And I don’t think we’ll see you here again.”

Daishou pauses, holding a hand under his nose, then looks up at them, brow furrowed, blood dripping to his lips. “If I don’t get my money by—”

“Just get out of here, dude,” Kageyama says. “Jesus.”

“See you later.” Kuroo taps his ashes again and turns back to the doorway. “Your Porsche looks ridiculous on our street.” He steps into the house.

Kageyama stands there, waiting, until Daishou gives him one more look and a “Screw you guys” for good measure. He goes back to his car, wiping at his face, and drives away.

Kageyama turns and looks at everyone in the doorway. He puts his hands in his hoodie pocket. “Yikes.”

“God, just get inside,” Akaashi says. He gathers them into the hall and shuts and locks the front door.

Kuroo is looking at his hand again and Bokuto says, “Dude, what if you get in trouble for that? Also…thanks.” His shoulders are tense from the nerves.

Kuroo looks at him. “You think a drug dealer’s gonna call the cops?”

“What did you do?” Mattsun calls over, tilting back in his chair to look out his door.

“Broke his nose,” Akaashi tells him.

Mattsun raises his eyebrows. He adjusts his glasses and says into his phone, “Holy shit, Kuroo just broke the dude’s nose.” He pauses, then laughs and says, “Yeah,” and takes his phone away from his ear. He hits speaker, and Makki’s voice says, “Superb.”

Kuroo salutes to them.

“Well,” Kageyama says, turning to Bokuto. “So much for grand. He was kind of lame.”

“Are you kidding?” Bokuto’s eyes are still big, freaked out but excited. “That was grand as _frick_. He can be really cool but scary sometimes—”

“Seems like a total sociopath,” Hinata says, nodding.

“Total bummer,” Kageyama says. “Why’s he so pressed about the gay thing?”

Bokuto rubs his neck. “He just has a lot of problems with it, cause…I think he probably is. And that’s why he has two girlfriends. I don’t know.” He wipes his brow under his messy purple bangs. He really needs to pick a different color.

And that sounds kind of like someone else they know.

Bokuto turns to Akaashi and puts his hands on his arms. “Are you okay?”

Akaashi looks up at him. “Yeah. That guy sucks.”

Bokuto laughs and hugs him around his shoulders, and Akaashi wraps around his chest. “Tell me about it.” He puts his face in Akaashi’s hair.

“I thought you’d do the old throw the cigarette at his feet thing,” Kageyama says to Kuroo.

Kuroo smiles a bit. Though he wouldn’t show it, he’s probably really proud of himself. This time, he deserves to be. “These things are expensive, man. His Balenciagas aren’t worth the ashes.”

He drags, bliss, and for some reason Kageyama pats his shoulder. “Thanks. We’ll come up with it, right?” Kuroo just nods, holding the breath as he goes back into his room. Kageyama looks at Bokuto, still mid-hug. “Get some shoes, Bo. Issei?”

“Yeah?” Mattsun leans back in his chair again.

“Ready to go?”

He mutters something about work and hits shortcuts on his laptop before closing it. He tells Makki he’ll call again later.

Kageyama puts his arm around Hinata’s waist. “I’d ask if you’re okay, but I know you are.” Hinata smiles up at him. “Did you know he was in your class?”

“No idea,” Hinata says. “I guess he’s just kind of,” he shrugs, “unnoticeable. Tendou was right, though. Total douche.”

“Absolute wanker,” Kageyama says in a bad British accent.

“I can’t believe Kuroo did that,” Hinata whispers.

He shrugs back. “I guess that’s that good part I was mentioning.”

“Way to reverse psychology him earlier,” Mattsun says. He closes his door and pushes his glasses up.

Bokuto comes out of his room, tank top and too-short jeans and sneakers. “Ready.”

Kageyama nods. “All right. Let’s go meet Suga.”


	35. Deadline

Akaashi convinced Bokuto not to get two orders of pancakes because he still doesn’t have much of an appetite. He pouted all the way until his single order came out and he only ate half, and Akaashi gave him the look.

They’re at an eight-person table talking about finals, the next semester, plants, Norwegian dialects, cryonics, and how to use an analog synthesizer. Anything but last weekend and what they’re actually here for. Lunch with Tsukishima and Yamaguchi is great, and they owed Yamaguchi that hangout, but the point was to leave the house. To not be around Kuroo.

“Hey,” Kageyama says quietly, brushing his hand against Hinata’s leg next to him. “I realized something.”

“Hm?”

“You know how Makki could’ve seen the situation at Tadashi’s and just totally dipped from Mattsun?” he asks. Hinata nods. “You could have done the same when I came and blabbed to you about it that first time. Or any time, honestly. But you didn’t. So, I just wanted to say thanks for giving it a shot.”

Hinata smiles at him. “I like you. And because it was your friend, I felt like I ought to. And it worked out.”

Kageyama looks at Bokuto, hunched over with his hands in his lap but smiling, listening to Tsukishima explaining something about vowels, glancing at Akaashi whenever he can. “Yeah,” Kageyama says.

Hinata squeezes his hand.

“I still can’t believe Kuroo did that,” Suga says to Mattsun. He puts a hand on his face.

Kageyama jumps back in with the up-close details. “He pulled a clean palm strike on the guy. Didn’t even drop his cigarette.”

“I kind of wish I’d seen it,” Yamaguchi says.

“It was kind of badass,” Bokuto tells him.

Suga sighs. “Oh, I’m sure that was the goal.”

“Honestly?” Kageyama replays the moment in his head. “Daishou was coming for Bo, and I think Kuroo wasn’t even thinking. He just reacted.”

As Akaashi adds something, Kageyama leans to Hinata again. “So—I’m defending him now?”

Hinata chuckles. “He’s still your friend. Even if he’s a dick.” He tilts his head. “It _was_ badass.”

It’s no use. Kageyama has to admit that it was.

Soon, their waitress comes over with the bills. For once, they (AKA, Suga) are paying for Yamaguchi instead of the other way around. He spent a whole ten dollars on his meal, so clearly they’re even.

“Thanks again, you guys,” Yamaguchi says.

Suga shakes his head. “Technically, we still owe you.”

“A signed copy and nothing else.”

Suga puts on a smile. He takes a moment to eventually say, “For sure.”

Bokuto’s voice in Kageyama’s head: _I know what he thinks._

They’re going to have to get to it now. Great.

“Thanks for the invite,” Tsukishima says. “You guys are actually not that b—” Yamaguchi shoots him a forceful smile, and Tsukishima adjusts his glasses. “Actually pretty cool.”

“It’s because we’re missing the last one,” Mattsun says. He takes a sip of his grapefruit juice and grimaces again.

Suga looks at him, then back at the table.

Yamaguchi laughs. “Makes sense.” He and Tsukishima stand up. “We’ll see you guys later. Tsukki says he’s taking me to get another plant.” He grins and Tsukishima averts his eyes from the table. “Thanks again.”

Hinata says he’ll see them later. Suga gives them a goodbye, and they head out.

In the next pause, they wait. Bokuto is smiling, but then he stops. He looks at Akaashi and puts his hand on his arm over his ribbon.

Suga taps a finger on the table. “Your friends are really great, Hinata.”

Hinata smiles, straightening his shoulders. “Thanks, yeah. They’re pretty cool, I think.”

Suga nods. Nods again. “Yeah. So, since you helped out this weekend, and since,” he puts his hand out at Kageyama, “you guys. I thought maybe it would be okay for you to listen.”

Hinata glances at Kageyama. Mattsun tosses back the rest of his grapefruit juice in one go.

Here it comes.

Suga breathes in and sits up. “So, you’re all probably—well…” He brushes his hand through his hair. “Not wondering anything.”

Bokuto looks down at the table.

Suga clears his throat. “Well. I decided to turn down the signing offer.” The rest of them take it in as he pauses, but the silence makes Suga uncomfortable so he keeps talking. “With discussing it with you guys, I know that there were mixed answers. Issei and I—we weren’t so sure. And I thought that, you know, if it was going to be a yes, it should be all of us, right?”

Mattsun says, “It was a difficult choice, and…” He stops.

“It’s cool,” Kageyama says, because he can’t think of anything else either.

“We gave Ukai a call yesterday,” Akaashi tells them.

Bokuto won’t even look at him. He keeps his face angled at the table.

_Don’t cry, Bo. Please._

“He…” Akaashi takes in a deep breath and shrugs one shoulder. “If it means anything, he seemed pretty disappointed. He really wanted us.”

“It’s cool,” Kageyama says again dumbly.

“I really wasn’t sure,” Suga insists. “I want—I mean, I thought maybe. Like, _maybe_ , you know?” He shakes his head.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it,” Bokuto mutters.

Suga’s face gets immediately serious. “No, Bokuto. It’s not. This had nothing to do with that.”

“That’s not true,” Bokuto says. He lifts his head up, leans back into his chair, and looks really pitiful. He tucks his finger in his ribbon and messes with it. “That’s just not true. If I hadn’t tried anything and we’d just had our show at The Room like usual because we’re a band—”

“Koutarou,” Akaashi says, and Hinata says, “Don’t say that.”

“ _That’s_ not true,” Kageyama says. “Suga was asking us way before that.” He starts to say something else, but then it hits him that maybe it was losing his ribbon, the anniversary, _and_ this, all combining together, that caused Bokuto to do what he did, and suddenly no words are coming out anymore.

“I really almost said yes,” Suga says, really quiet. “I keep thinking I made the wrong decision and I’m letting everyone down.”

“Suga.” Mattsun looks at him. “It’s me too, okay? We’ve all got things.”

“It’s life,” Akaashi says. “And, I mean—nothing has changed, technically. This is the trajectory we were already on.”

“Is it?” Suga closes his eyes, sighs and pushes his hand through his hair again. “I know. I have commencement in just over a week and I’ve applied places for graduate school. I—” He blinks and looks around at them. “Oh, we were so distracted, I—I never told you. I got a notice for an internship offer for August. In Helsinki.”

“No way,” Kageyama says. “That’s awesome. Seriously?”

Suga smiles briefly. “Yeah, I know. But—I mean, that’s _if_ I get it. I won’t even know until the end of June. I could get declined, and then this…”

“We already told Ukai,” Akaashi says evenly. “We already made the choice. There’s nothing else to…say about it.”

It feels final, _truly_ final, and they all just sit there. Kageyama takes Hinata’s hand under the table.

“I hate this,” Bokuto says.

Akaashi looks up and says, “But—”

“What about the Atlanta show?” Hinata asks.

“Right.” Akaashi nods. “It’s still an option. And when we talked to Ukai on the phone, he said it’s ours if we want it.”

Bokuto stares at him with huge eyes. “Kaashi. Please tell me—”

“We said yes,” Suga says. His real smile is back on, just a little muted. “We’re going. Next weekend at the beginning of break.”

Kageyama puts his hand on his head and squeezes Hinata’s. Mattsun nudges Suga and says coolly, chuckling, “What the hell. You should’ve said that sooner.”

“I—” Suga laughs a little. “I forgot.”

“ _Dude_.” Kageyama is grinning and Hinata squeezes his hand even tighter.

“Kaashi!” Bokuto almost shouts. Akaashi lets himself laugh at the face he’s making.

“We’ll have to leave right after I walk,” Suga says. “We sent Ukai our setlist—six songs, starting with ‘Research,’ ending with ‘Manor.’ We’ll see the venue the evening before; Saturday he’ll be there, and we’ll soundcheck and figure out the logistics of everything for the show, meet the band we’re opening for. I just think it would be a great experience—perfect for Keiji’s résumé—and a fun way to start the summer, and I guess to—” He pauses, looks sideways and bites down on his lip. “Well. Appease things.”

Right. Does he know any of this at all?

“What are we going to tell him?” Kageyama asks.

Bokuto breathes in. “Oh. Kuroo.”

Suga sighs. “Here’s my plan. We have The Room this Saturday, right?” Akaashi nods to him. “So, at practice this Friday, I’ll tell Kuroo about Atlanta next weekend, and that’s it. We tell him that Akaashi heard about it that morning, and that I wanted to keep it a surprise until practice when we were all together. We don’t tell him about Ukai; he hears nothing about the signing offer.” He runs a hand through his hair again. “As far as he knows, this is the same as the festival or the garden and Akaashi worked out all the details. It’s just a special show for us. He’ll love it anyway. He’ll see it as a,” he takes another deep breath, “big opportunity. He won’t suspect anything.”

They think about it, Bokuto still touching his ribbon, Hinata sitting quiet in his chair because it’s not his thing. Kageyama somewhat wishes he could tactically avoid it, stay emotionally uninvolved with Kuroo and Suga’s situation, but that luxury ended back in Roseneau.

“It should work,” Mattsun says, adjusting his glasses.

Kageyama scratches his head. “Should we pretend we didn’t know? About Atlanta?” _Is this all going to be an act?_

Suga shrugs. “Just…don’t make it obvious that we left him out. He’ll be too focused on it after I mention it to notice. He’s,” he puts out a hand, “you know. Thinking about himself.”

Kageyama can understand that much.

Bokuto sniffs. “I hate this a little less.”

Suga smiles at him—his gentle, neurotic smile. “I’m sorry, guys.”

Kageyama shakes his head. “Don’t be.”

“We still have Atlanta,” Akaashi says, looking at Bokuto and then everyone. “Ukai said he’s really looking forward to hearing us live again and is excited to meet us.”

“I think that’s really cool,” Hinata says.

“Are A and R guys supposed to be that nice? And accommodating?” Kageyama asks.

Mattsun looks into his empty glass. “Only if they want something.”

Bokuto looks at Akaashi, and Kageyama looks at Hinata, and Suga puts his hands on the table. The waitress comes by and asks if they’re finished.


	36. And a Sophomore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for this chapter are in the end notes!

_WEDNESDAY_

* * *

Bokuto holds onto his ribbon as he walks out from the front doors of Jack’s. He doesn’t let his arm go until he’s back on the sidewalk with Kageyama.

“Well?” Kageyama asks.

Bokuto comes next to him and shrugs. “All things considered, him letting me _resign_ ,” he puts up quotes in the air, “was pretty nice. I think he’s pitying me since I’m getting a week’s severance.” He sighs, rubbing his head.

Kageyama puts his hands in the pockets of his joggers, comfortable. “Nice.”

Bokuto hums. “It might last me about a month, if I stretch it pretty thin.” He looks at the building. “Why does it feel like I’ll miss this place?”

“Nah.” Kageyama turns them around to go back toward the house. “That’s just anxiety over finding something new.”

“Thanks.”

He smiles. “Sorry. I’m proud of you though.” _It feels good to have it gone._ _We’re almost done._

Bokuto sniffs. “Thanks. I actually am glad I don’t have to go back. Would have had to work with Daishou tonight. At least I don’t have to deal with that ever again.”

_Almost. I went to the ATM on the way to get you earlier._

Kageyama looks at him, touching his wallet in his pocket. He looks back out at the road. “This’ll be good for you.”

Bokuto smiles at him. His dimples pool shadows in the sunlight. “Yeah, I hope so.”

“I know so.”

His phone chimes in his pocket. He texted Hinata about his stats exam while Bokuto was talking to his boss. Former boss.

**_Shou [tangerine]_** : _Just got out. It went pretty good!_

“We’re going back home?” Bokuto asks.

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” He starts singing an old Elton John song. “ _I sat on the roof, and I kicked off the moss…_ ”

**_Shou [tangerine]_ ** _: I could get a 72 and still have an A so I think I did better than that haha_

**_Kageyama_ ** _: genius lol_

**_Kageyama_ ** _: did you see daishou?_

Bokuto clicks his tongue. “I can’t remember the words.”

“ _You see, I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue,_ ” Kageyama tells him.

**_Shou [tangerine]_ ** _: He had bandages on his nose :x_

Kageyama smiles at his screen and sends back _looking forward to it. with Bo- text you later ok._ He clicks off his screen and looks at Bokuto, humming now. “You good?”

Bokuto smiles again. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“I’m still weird about yesterday, too,” Kageyama admits.

They turn a corner, back up the way they came, the way they always walk. Or, used to walk. Bokuto nods once. “Yeah.”

In the grass, stuck to a saw palmetto, a piece of red ribbon is twined in a clump of Spanish moss.

“See that?” Kageyama says.

“Do you think it’s the same one?” Bokuto asks.

Kageyama looks at it, but doesn’t look too hard. “No way.”

“Right. Do you think maybe it’s mine?”

There’s a pause until they both say, “No way.”

Kageyama laughs, puts his hands back in his pockets, and leads him up the road. “Let’s get out of here.”

Mattsun is at the library, Akaashi is in his macro and intellectual property exams, and Suga is with his research supervisor. Kuroo is the only one at the house when they go in.

“We’re back,” Kageyama calls.

“Cool,” Kuroo says from his room.

The A/C is on and it still smells like warm butter and bread from Mattsun’s grilled cheese earlier. They finally cleaned up the beads, sitting on their knees and brushing them up with their hands, and the house feels back to normal now. Kageyama looks down the hallway at the open bathroom and doesn’t flinch.

Next to him, Bokuto looks too. “Sometimes I’m afraid to pee at night.”

Kageyama chuckles. “I get that.”

“I mean like, when it’s dark, I’m afraid the dead version of me is gonna come out of the mirror and possess this one.”

Kageyama looks at him. “Whoa. Let me just get you Tsukki’s number. I’ll ask Shou.”

Bokuto nods. “Good idea.” He blinks. “Are we gonna go to my room?”

Kageyama turns his head.

Kuroo comes out of his room. “Just layered Suga’s vocals over the tech cut. It’ll be good to work off. I’ll get everyone’s scores later.”

_Does it even matter?_

Bokuto swallows and his throat clicks. Kageyama says, “Nice.”

Kuroo nods, bringing his door almost closed behind him. “Akaashi sent me his. Got Mattsun’s before he left, and I went to see Suga earlier.”

“Got it.” Kageyama reaches into his pocket for his wallet. He takes out his forty-dollar share—a lot of what he had left from the show in Roseneau. With the amounts Kuroo asked each of them for, it still only added to two hundred forty, but Kuroo will be handing over the full three-fifty. _That good part I was mentioning._

He gives Kuroo the bills.

Bokuto watches Kuroo take them, take out the rest from his back pocket, and fold them in. “Oh,” Bokuto says. “Is that.” Kuroo nods. “We’re going to actually…?”

“Yeah.” Kuroo puts the money back in his pocket. “It needs to be _over_ over.”

“Where did you guys get that?”

“We just brought it up, Bo,” Kageyama tells him.

“But I—”

“You have a total of zero dollars until your severance comes in, right?” Kuroo asks.

Bokuto closes his mouth. He looks at Kageyama, then nods at the floor.

“We’ll be fine,” Kageyama says. “You’re gonna be done with him.”

“I’ll pay you guys back asap,” Bokuto insists.

“Just pay your rent,” Kuroo says. “And buy us a broom.”

Bokuto makes a face. “Jesus, I’ll buy a vacuum.” Kageyama laughs and Kuroo shakes his head. “So, do I…just give it to him later?”

“No, dude.” Kuroo looks at the time on his phone. “We’re going to his house now.”

“Oh.” He scratches his arm above his ribbon. “You know where he lives?

Kuroo goes to the front door. “No. But you do.”

A two-story house, newly built, big windows, a night blue Porsche Cayman in a two-car automatic garage. It’s everything Kageyama imagined, spot-on, except it’s made of stucco instead of stones.

“Yeesh. Our house in Asheville wasn’t like this, huh?” he says, then feels really stupid for saying it. He looks at Bokuto to make sure he doesn’t start crying or something.

But Bokuto smiles at him. “Ours was way cooler.”

He smiles back. “Definitely.”

They walk up the driveway, up the front steps. He and Bokuto hang back while Kuroo knocks on the front door.

After a few moments, the door opens to reveal a lady, pretty old, with a hearing aid in, and not Japanese. She has a thick accent when she says, “Hello.”

“Afternoon, ma’am,” Kuroo says without missing a beat.

Bokuto leans close to Kageyama. “He told me he lived alone.”

Kageyama shrugs.

Kuroo puts his hands out and uses both to shake one of hers, earning this big wrinkly smile. “I think we’re looking for your grandson.”

Daishou is already coming down the staircase behind her, rushing in socks, his hand sliding along the bannister. He’s speaking really fast. “ _¡Abuelita, la puerta! Te dije que no—_ ”

“Whoa,” Bokuto breathes.

“ _Ay, Suguru_ ,” his grandmother says, turning to look at him as he comes to her side and glares at them. He really does have a bandage on his nose. And a black eye. “ _Tus amigos están aquí_ ,” she says.

“ _Hola_ ,” Kageyama says, the full extent of his Spanish knowledge. He waves a hand to her and she nods at him with her toothy smile.

Daishou sighs, placing his hand on her arm. “Grandma, they’re not my…”

“ _¿No han venido aquí antes, no? Este es guapo_.” Kageyama watches her motion to Kuroo then look at her grandson.

Daishou glances at him too, but not for very long. He closes his eyes and sighs harder. “ _Lo sé, Abuela. Pero…no puedo. Él no lo hará. La sala_.” He’s waving a hand at her while she starts shuffling away. “ _La sala_.” When she’s out of earshot, he glowers at them, touching his hand to his face like he’s self-conscious. “What.”

“You speak Spanish? You’re a halfer?” Bokuto asks, bewildered.

Daishou frowns deeper. “A quarter. My mom is half, my grandma is full. I studied abroad in Spain, so—” He cuts off and shakes his head. “What the fuck do you guys want?” He looks at Kageyama, so Kageyama just tilts his chin at him in return: _Hey, man._

“That’s a weird question,” Kuroo says. “You seemed cool with showing up at people’s houses uninvited.”

Daishou rolls his eyes. “Screw you guys. You freaked my grandma out about me going to a doctor. Get my face fixed.”

Kuroo shrugs. “You deserved it.”

“Yeah, well, she has,” he looks over his shoulder, “heart problems.”

“And your parents?”

He squints. “D.C. for two weeks. Business. None of _your_ business.”

_And you’re here with your grandma alone? During finals week?_ In Kageyama’s head, Kuroo yesterday: _What are you, twenty?_

Kuroo scoffs. “Jesus. Look, we’re just here to tie it off.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” Kuroo goes for his front pocket first, taking out his Newports.

Daishou frowns more, but it makes him wince a little. “Can you not smoke in my face? That stuff will mess you up one day.”

Kuroo pulls one out and puts it in his mouth while Daishou rolls his eyes again and shifts on his socks in the doorway. Kuroo puts the box back, then takes his lighter and the money from his back pocket. He holds the clump of bills out. Daishou’s hand is shaking when he takes it, and Kageyama doesn’t look. Bokuto shifts next to him.

Kuroo’s lighter clinks closed. “And so will that.” He exhales.

Daishou just glares, clutching the money in his fist. “Wow. Prophetic.” He looks sideways. “You can leave now.”

“No ‘thank you’?”

“Fuck you.”

Kuroo crosses one arm over his chest, props his other elbow, and holds his cigarette in his fingers. “Look, man. You’ve got a nice house, a nice grandmother. A good school and chances that a lot of people don’t get to have.”

Kageyama looks at Bokuto in his periphery. Bokuto is looking at the ground.

Daishou doesn’t respond.

“You speak three languages, I assume,” Kuroo says. “You’re.” He stops and looks like he physically can’t believe he’s saying this. “A history major. You have things. Don’t pull something stupid. You don’t want to be in with the kind of people you are.”

“If I can do it, you can do it,” Bokuto pipes up, voice cracking.

Daishou looks at him, then back at Kuroo. “So you, what, walked all the way here to patronize me? Stay out of my business.”

“It’s called compassion, dude,” Kageyama says.

Kuroo moves his free hand to his pocket, hooking his thumb in. “Get off the coke, quit being an asshole, and stop power tripping.” He pauses to take a drag. “I’m not sorry for breaking your nose but like, sorry, I guess. We’ve all got something. You can do better with what you have, so,” he shrugs, “get over it.”

Daishou blinks, then scoffs and shakes his head. “Whatever.” He pockets the money. “Just stay away from me and my grandma.” He sneers at Kageyama and adds, “This is private property.”

Kageyama shrugs again.

Kuroo does too. “ _Adiós_ , dude.”

Daishou rolls his eyes and turns away. Kuroo leads them back down the driveway to the street.

“Not worth the ashes, huh?” Kageyama says eventually.

Kuroo taps onto the asphalt. “Still a rich bitch cliché.”

_And you’re a bad boy cliché_ , Kageyama thinks. _Through and through._

Bokuto walks between them with his hand on his ribbon. “I thought that would be more scary. Like, he’d have a gun or something. And no grandma.”

Kageyama sees Kuroo shaking his head again. “It’s over over, dude,” he says.

Bokuto looks at Kuroo. “Did you know that would happen?”

“I expected him to answer the door.” Kuroo kicks the road with his boot heel. “You said he lived alone.”

Bokuto does a weird giggle. “You guys speak any Spanish?”

Kageyama snorts. “You can speak German but no Spanish?”

“I know enough,” Kuroo says through his cigarette, and doesn’t say anything else.

Bokuto asks, “What now?”

Kageyama does one more shrug. “Who knows. You’re just living.”

Bokuto stops in the street. They turn to look at him and he turns to face the house, puts two finger guns up to the sky and shouts, “I’m alive as friiiick!” He jumps back between them, grinning, and hooks his arms over their shoulders. And this time he’s awake, and alive, and okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something about trilingual, part-Hispanic Daishou really gets me, you know? (I love Daishou, canon.)
> 
> Translations by line:  
> “Grandma, the door! I told you not to—”  
> “Oh, Suguru. Your friends are here.” … “They haven’t come here before, right? This one is handsome.”  
> “I know, Grandma. But…I can’t. He won’t. [Waving her away.] The living room. The living room.”
> 
> (I also uh…love KuroShou…guilty pleasure ship)


	37. Three Years

_FRIDAY_

* * *

“Laissez-faire?” Kageyama asks. He looks up at Tendou’s newest painting.

Tendou laughs once, lifting his little glasses onto his head. “Way off, _brate._ ”

They happened to be passing by the art building, and since it’s the last official day of the semester, they stopped in to have a chat.

“It’s not so much _if_ something happens as something _must_ happen,” Hinata says, looking at the canvas. “Like, something’s got to give.”

Tendou points at him. “True fan. My last piece of the term. You know, I actually got to put The Half Dimension up in the concert hall and landed a buyer for it. One of my classmates and I both got offers.”

Hinata grins and says, “That’s great!” and Kageyama says, “Nice.”

“I hate to rush you out,” Tendou says, “but I’ve gotta force the creativity for a few hours.” He smiles coolly at them. “You two go on a date or something.”

Kageyama’s ears warm up, but Hinata just smiles and bows his head a little. “Sure, sorry to bother you.”

“No problem, _portokáli._ ”

“Well—we’ll see you around,” Kageyama stammers. He turns to Hinata and stage whispers, “Come on, Shou, let’s get out of here.”

Hinata waves, and Kageyama salutes Tendou, but as they begin to turn away, Tendou says, “Oh, hey. You asked me about Daishou before.” They turn back. “I saw him yesterday with a busted face,” Tendou says. “Somebody did a number on him.”

Kageyama puts his hands in his pockets and grins. “No kidding?”

Tendou adjusts his glasses back onto his nose, casual. “Finally got what was coming to him, I suppose.”

“Karma,” Hinata says.

Tendou nods. “Major.”

“Thanks, dude,” Kageyama says. “See you.”

He’s still grinning as he leads Hinata back outside.

When they’re back in the sun, he says, “Is it bad that it feels good?”

Hinata chuckles. “Not at all. Maybe it’ll help him out, get him to quit.”

Kuroo’s words from yesterday play in his head—blunt and rude, but his form of caring: _You can do better with what you have, so get over it._

He looks at his boyfriend and smiles. “So, what do you want to do for our first date?”

“First date?” Hinata raises an eyebrow.

“First…official date?”

Hinata laughs. “Hm. Let’s get food and take some to the guys for practice.”

“Aw, what?” Kageyama pouts. “You don’t want to go out later?”

“You’re about to buy me food and take me to a private practice for free. I think that’s a date.”

Kageyama feigns despair. “You only like me for my band.”

“Not true,” Hinata giggles. “I like you for your face, too.”

Kageyama blinks. He stops on the sidewalk. “Shou.” He takes a breath. “I have a huge crush on you. Bigger than for anyone else ever.”

Hinata smiles, those perfect smooth lips of his that tasted like coconut Chapstick the afternoon they spent together in Kageyama’s dorm. He tilts his head and says, “Not even Bokuto’s mom?” Kageyama’s mouth opens and Hinata laughs at him, nudging his ribs. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He reaches up and touches Kageyama’s bangs. “I like your hair, too. And your eyes. And your voice. And the way you treat everyone around you.” He smiles. “I like you for a lot of reasons.”

Kageyama faces him straight on. “Come to Atlanta with us.”

Hinata looks sideways, thinking. “I have to ask my parents. I hadn’t told you yet, but I’m going home with Tsukki to visit our families during part of break.”

“Oh,” Kageyama says, and it comes out sounding really dejected. It makes Hinata smile and nudge him again. “No, yeah,” Kageyama says. “Totally. See your family.”

“You’re cute,” Hinata says. “I would also need a ticket.”

“I bet we can get you that,” Kageyama says quickly. “We’re basically VIPs. We can figure it all out.”

Hinata chuckles again. “Okay, I’ll talk to them.” He locks in on Kageyama and says, “I promise. I want to go with you.”

At the house, they hold a mini party for the end of the term. Mattsun said he turned in his last paper at noon, Akaashi’s grades are already in—an easily maintained 3.9 GPA—and Suga came here from his final meeting with his supervisor, his senior thesis fully accepted. He typed her a thank you letter on his phone that he’s going to handwrite and hand-deliver later because he’s like that.

As they finish up, Hinata, Kageyama, and Suga gather dishes and take them to the kitchen while the rest of them bring everything into the living room for practice. “We’re at The Room tomorrow night, right?” Suga calls out, though he already knows they are. He speaks loud enough that it’ll get clearly down the hall to Kuroo’s room.

“Right,” Akaashi says. He goes to the couch in the living room, taking his usual spot in the corner. Bokuto follows him in, sits down at his drumset, and puts on his sweatband. Mattsun goes to stand behind his synth and starts clicking things. Kageyama takes the middle of the couch so Hinata has space on the other end to sit next to him.

Suga comes in, nervously touching his hair. “I’m going to tell him before we start, okay?” he whispers, so quietly that Kageyama almost doesn’t hear it. They all nod at him. “Also, Hinata,” he brings his voice back up, “it can get really loud in here. Just a warning. We opened the windows, so it should help.”

“We’ll keep the amps low.” Kuroo walks in carrying Darla and some sheet music—scores for the new song. Suga glances at the papers and touches his hair again.

“Thanks,” Hinata says.

“So we’re ready?” Suga asks, putting on one of his many smiles.

Bokuto paradiddles on his hi-hat. “Let’s get it.”

Kuroo starts to put his bass on but Suga says, “Hold on.” Kuroo looks at him, brings it back down. “Just, uh.” Suga motions to a stand. “I have something to say really quick.”

Kuroo eyes him, but puts the bass on the stand. “Is there a problem?”

“No. No problem.” Suga takes a breath and puts his hands together. “So, Akaashi and I ended up not scheduling us a spot at The Room for next Saturday. We’re still going tomorrow night, but—”

“That’s not a problem?” Kuroo says, already mad. “It’s summer. You don’t even have classes anymore and you’re cutting weekend shows now, too?”

Suga gives him a tight-lipped look. “Give me a second to talk. We’re not going to The Room…” he puts his fingertips together, “because we’re going to Atlanta to play as an opener at the Cellairis Amphitheatre.”

“Wait, seriously?” Mattsun says, totally natural. Bokuto makes his surprised face.

Kuroo pauses. “Are you joking?”

Suga grins. “Not at all. Akaashi has it all figured out. I’ll have commencement on Friday, and then we’ll drive down there, meet the crew for the show and the headliners on Saturday, and perform that night.”

Kuroo lands his look on Akaashi. “You found this for us? Are you kidding me?”

Akaashi shrugs a shoulder. “We got the offer after Roseneau. They were looking for a one-time opener. Figured we might as well take it.”

None of what they’ve said is a lie. Kageyama will stay quiet and leave it to the smarter people because it actually looks like it’s working. He glances at Bokuto and he’s grinning, starting to bounce his legs in excitement.

“Did they see us at the garden or something?” Kuroo asks. Akaashi and Suga nod, and Kuroo rubs his jaw. “Holy shit. That place seats thousands.”

Hinata says, “I think it’s awesome, you guys.”

“A huge step forward,” Kuroo agrees. “Jesus, we’ll play the new song.”

He looks for the papers he brought in but Suga says, a little quickly, “Maybe we should stick to what we know for such a big show.”

Kageyama sees Bokuto’s eyebrows go up in the middle. An alarm gets half a second to go off in his head before Bokuto is talking, leg still bouncing, the hi-hat starting to rattle a bit.

“Wait, but it’d be cool to show off new stuff,” he says. “Like, maybe we could send a video of it to Ukai, see what he thinks about switching it in.” He asks the question up in Suga’s direction, but Suga is just standing there, looking at nothing.

The air pressure changes.

Kuroo asks, “Who’s Ukai?”

Bokuto’s leg stops moving. He grips tightly onto his drumsticks at his thigh. “Oh, sh—I’m sorry—I forgot that you wanted—” He sends big eyes up at Suga. “I didn’t mean—” He stops.

They could have played it off: Ukai is just the guy who gave them the show offer. No big deal, nothing new here. But it’s Bokuto.

Hinata radiates uncomfortable energy next to Kageyama on the couch. Mattsun takes a while to adjust his glasses, and Akaashi touches the bridge of his nose. Suga sighs, and Bokuto shrinks down, arms in, and stares at his drumset.

Kuroo looks deadpan at Suga. “Wanted what.”

Suga still stands looking at the air, thinking, looking really stuck. They all know he doesn’t like to lie. This has been weighing on him since they talked about it on Tuesday, since he even made the decision on Monday, since they ever got the offer at all. Even though he’s the one who came up with this plan, there’s no way he wants to carry this secret for the rest of his life.

He wasn’t supposed to have to lie to Kuroo. He _shouldn’t_ have to.

Kageyama gathers his courage and says, “It’s cool, Suga. We’re behind you.”

“I’m sorry, Suga,” Bokuto says.

Suga shakes his head. “It’s okay, Bokuto.” He puts his hands on his hips, drawing in a breath. Brushes his hair away from his eyes. “I wanted everyone to be happy,” he tells Kuroo. “But I couldn’t make it that way.”

Bokuto puts his sticks down on his snare and his hand on his arm over his ribbon.

“What are you talking about?” Kuroo says. “Behind _what_?”

Suga scoffs and closes his eyes. “You’re already angry when you don’t even know what it is. But I get it, and you deserve to be upset, because Ukai Keishin offered to sign us to his label in Atlanta and I said no.”

Shreds of emotion pass over Kuroo’s face, behind his bangs, until he just says, “What the fuck?”

“It’s decided,” Akaashi says. “Since Monday.”

“I turned it down because there are six of us and we have lives apart from the band,” Suga says, keeping his voice even. “I know it’s not what everyone wanted, but I had to go with what I thought was best.”

“Best?” Kuroo squints at him. “You thought it was best to get this opportunity and just throw it away?”

Suga tightens his hands on his hips and looks sideways at the wall. “I did what I thought was good for everyone.”

Now Kuroo scoffs. “Fuck that. Why was I never told about this? Since _Monday_? And you were just gonna pretend like it was just this show? You were just never going to say anything? Is this Ukai guy going to be there?”

Nobody says anything. Nobody even opens their mouth.

“Yeah,” Kuroo says. “And what were you going to do when he walks up to us saying he understands our decision not to sign a record deal? What was I gonna think then?”

Suga shakes his head again. He didn’t work it out that far. “I don’t know, Kuroo. Stop getting so mad about this.”

“Stop getting mad? Suga, that was our _chance_. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He puts his hands out, pleading.

Suga looks at him again and says, “Yeah. _You_.” He’s angry now too, but there’s still pain on his face. All the blame is falling on him, and Kageyama doesn’t envy his position as leader—on top of the already dubious dynamic the two of them have. It’s somehow solely between them now, and it’s hurting Suga for more reason than one.

Kuroo drops his hands to his sides. “You’re kidding me. What the hell are we in a band for? You had no right to decide that for everyone.”

“I didn’t.” Suga faces his body toward him. “I asked everyone else _but_ you. That’s the point. We knew your answer already, but the rest of us have opinions and lives too, you know. I—I was trying to keep this from being a big deal so we wouldn’t end up having this fight.”

“It didn’t have to be a fight, Suga. You should have—”

“That’s bullshit, Kuroo. You know this would’ve happened and _is_ happening because this is _always_ how you react. You freak out over anything that doesn’t agree with what you want. Jesus, you just said it—we’re a band. We all have a say. We knew yours.”

“And you’re all okay with this?” Kuroo asks, suddenly turning it on the room. He looks around but nobody will make eye contact. “Bokuto?”

Bokuto’s face turns red and he flinches, looking sideways. “I mean, I’m, um—”

“Don’t do that,” Akaashi says up at Kuroo. “Don’t corner him.”

Kuroo looks at Suga again. “I’m pissed at you for this. I’m so fucking mad.”

“Couldn’t tell,” Suga mutters.

“Seriously, Suga.”

“No, _you_ seriously, Kuroo.” Suga shoots daggers at him, through with having this argument. “The rest of us? We have lives. You sit in your room smoking all day. _We_ have stuff. All you have is a fine arts degree and no job.”

Return fire. “Low blow. What are you gonna do, teach? Beg rich people for grants your whole life?”

Suga rolls his eyes hard. “You think you’re cool and unique for your jaded attitude but it just makes you an insufferable jackass.”

“Your neuroticism and need for conventional achievement feeds into a system that—”

“Oh my god, shut _up_. You are not on some new plane of consciousness. Why are you attacking me?”

“You shot first.”

“No, wait, guys, I’m—” Bokuto puts his hands on his head. Akaashi stands up to be next to him.

“Look, we shouldn’t argue about things like that,” Hinata says bravely, trying to mediate. “Everyone is equal in this.”

Kuroo turns his glare on him. “Come off your little purebred high horse, man, you aren’t special. It’s not like you’re the first guy I fucked. And just because you’re seeing him,” he points a finger at Kageyama, “doesn’t make you a deciding member of this group.”

Jesus. There it is.

Hinata reddens at his cheeks, angry but mostly mortified.

Mattsun stares blankly at the floor. “Dude.”

“Not cool, man,” Kageyama says. “Stop being such a dick.”

“You what?” Suga’s voice comes out quietly in a single breath. When they look at him, he’s seething where he stands.

Kuroo turns again to him. His arms go back to his sides. For once, he doesn’t have something to say.

Suga says, “You slept with him?”

Hinata looks down and Kageyama puts his hand on his back. Akaashi says, “We don’t have to do this,” but it just dissolves in the air between where Suga and Kuroo are staring at each other.

“Did you?” Suga asks.

“Koushi.”

“When?”

Kuroo sighs and looks away. “What’s the point?”

“Fucking _when_.” Suga’s voice becomes flat with a razor edge. “We haven’t even known him for that long. Not that that has ever mattered to you.”

Kuroo won’t answer.

Bokuto is sitting there with his fingers in his hair whining, “Guys guys,” but neither of them hear it. Akaashi puts his hand on his shoulder.

“When,” Suga says again.

Kuroo shakes his head. “Roseneau.”

“ _What?_ ”

Hinata looks at Kageyama and whispers, “I’m gonna go sit on the front steps.”

Kageyama rubs his back. “Are you okay? You can just leave; I can meet you later.”

A nod, reassuring. “I’m fine, it’s okay. I just think you guys should, um. I’ll be outside until…”

Kageyama can’t blame him one bit. “Yeah. Okay.”

Hinata gives him a brief smile and stands up. Mattsun and Akaashi watch him go. Kageyama looks at Akaashi squeezing Bokuto’s shoulder while he’s freaking out, and Suga and Kuroo are starting to get louder, and he feels completely defenseless. He knew this was coming ages ago, and the worst part is that, even if he actually was going to do something this time, there wasn’t one single thing he could have done to change it.

Suga is saying, “I honestly can’t believe that you…” He puts a hand out at the hallway, and in the short silence the front door closes. “And god knows how many other guys this whole time with your track record.”

Kuroo raises his eyebrows. “That’s even lower than—”

“Don’t even try.” Suga brings a hand to his chest. “I stopped counting how many girls you’ve brought to this house after I lost track of how many times I cried alone in my room.”

Kuroo pushes his hair back. “It wasn’t supposed to—I’m not trying to make you feel like this.”

“I don’t _care_ about your intentions, Tetsurou,” Suga says. “It’s been three years. It didn’t matter what I said, what I asked, what I did for you. Three years and you’d never touch me because _you like me but you’re straight_. Not _once_.”

And there’s that. Jesus Christ.

“But you meet him twice and sleep with him?” Suga says. “There’s something wrong with you.”

Kuroo has the guts to look offended. “It’s because I fucking care about you, Koushi.”

Suga narrows his eyes. “You manipulative asshole.”

He punches Kuroo in the face.

Kuroo takes it. The hit lands and he steps backward, his hand comes up to his mouth, and he glares at the pain. Suga hisses and clutches his fist against his stomach, whimpering once. Bokuto’s eyes get huge and watery and Mattsun stops moving completely and Kageyama’s mouth is open to say _holy shit_ or _stop it_ but nothing is coming out.

“Both of you, cut it out,” Akaashi says.

When Kuroo takes his hand away from his mouth, his lip is split and a thin line of blood wells in the crevice. He looks at Suga again and retaliates with a shove. “Fuck you.”

Suga staggers, regains his balance, and glares back. “Fuck _you_.” They’re nearly shouting now. “This has been three years in the making.”

“What was I supposed to do, Koushi?”

“Maybe reciprocate for once instead of leaving me feeling like I was losing my mind!”

“If we were together and then something happened, what would happen to the band? Huh? Tell me what would happen.”

“Do I mean that little to you?” Suga breathes. Kuroo looks sideways and Suga leans toward him. “Look me in the eyes, Tetsurou. Emote. Do something.”

Kuroo throws his arm out. “I had no choice, Koushi.”

In Kageyama’s head, he hears himself: _That’s what Bokuto said. That we’re all he has._ And Hinata, shaking his head: _It’s different._

“No choice but to sleep with a million strangers?” Suga asks. “Some random person every weekend in the room where you write songs that—oh, this’ll be perfect for your voice, Koushi. You sing that really well, Koushi. Your shirt buttons are still undone, let me fix them, Koushi. Suck my dick, Koushi, but actually don’t because I’m too fucking straight.”

There’s a pause. Kuroo doesn’t answer. He stands there with his hands facing up.

“And with Tobio’s boyfriend? His crush?” Suga begs. “What’s wrong with you?”

Kageyama puts his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and is glad Hinata went outside.

“Tobio is your _friend_ ,” Suga says. “He helps you and he’s nice to you even when you’re an asshole because that’s what _friends_ do. We were all on a trip together. Roseneau was supposed to be awesome, this big opportunity to showcase the music.”

“Yeah, Koushi, I—”

“I was excited for _you_.” Suga stops talking with his hands. He drops his arms and his voice. “I thought we had a great time. It was a great weekend for us. _Us_.” He shakes his head. “And you just sleep with him? Where did you even…what…”

“This is so screwed.” Kuroo takes a step anywhere, turning around and turning back. “This is why.”

Suga just rolls his eyes again. “Oh, come on, Kuroo. We were sharing a goddamned house.”

He stops, and Kageyama sees it hit him. Realization lights in his huge, agonized eyes, because Kuroo _didn’t_ share the house with them.

“Oh my god.” Suga puts his hands on his forehead, shutting his eyes with a grimace. “I own that van with you. We went and got it together.”

Kuroo sighs again, looking at the ground. “Koushi.”

“There’s something wrong with _me._ ”

“No there isn’t.”

“Do you even like me?”

“What do you want from this? What are you asking?”

Shouting: “I want you to tell me.”

Shouting back: “Tell you what, Koushi?”

“Are you straight or not?”

“No, I just can’t be with _you_.”

In the abrupt quiet, Suga recoils.

Kuroo wasn’t hiding it from the rest of them. He wasn’t hiding it from himself. All this time, for three years, the only person he didn’t want to know was Suga.

Kageyama watches as Mattsun sits down on the other end of the couch, his face blanking out. He glances at Akaashi, and his face reads _This is it_. Bokuto is crying.

Suga whispers, “Oh my god.” He runs his hands through his hair and closes his eyes.

Kuroo looks away again. He crosses his arms. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Just stop.” Bokuto’s words are coming out through sobs. “Just please stop it. This is half of why I was on drugs, you guys, Jesus _fricking_ Christ. I hate the fighting and the stress and I was freaking out all the time and then the—the ribbon, and it’s almost July and I know I’m probably the only one who said yes to Suga when he asked and now it’s never gonna happen and I know we’re gonna break up cause of freaking _life_ and I _hate_ it because you guys are the best thing that’s ever happened in _my_ life and I don’t want it to end.”

_I just wanted it to go on forever._

“Bokuto,” Suga says. “God.” He covers his face.

Akaashi rubs Bokuto’s shoulders while he sits there wiping his eyes over and over again with one hand, using the other to hold onto his ribbon for dear life.

“Don’t think like that,” Kuroo mumbles.

“How can I not?” Bokuto pushes out.

“We’re sorry,” Suga says. “We shouldn’t—this wasn’t a fight everyone should have heard.” He glances at Kuroo, then away again.

“It’s just.” Bokuto sucks in a breath. “Everything is falling apart at once and I just wish we could go back to before. I just want to be happy again but we said no, and I don’t have a job and sometimes I feel like I’ll never get back up.” He coughs. “And—and Kaashi and Mattsun are seniors now, and Suga has his new thing. I don’t know anything anymore.” He sobs again and rubs his wrist over his face.

Kuroo looks at Suga again. “What new thing?”

Suga rubs his neck. “I’m…moving away maybe.”

“You’re moving?” Kuroo stares at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

A shrug. “Why do you think?”

Kuroo blinks. “Where?”

“I’m trying for an internship in Helsinki. I might go to grad school there.”

“Jesus…Europe?”

“Yeah.”

“Koushi.”

They stare at each other while Bokuto pulls himself together. Suga shifts on his feet, and Kuroo lets his arms hang again, and all Kageyama can think is, _Too late._

Mattsun asks, “Can somebody get my pills.”

Kageyama stands up immediately. “Where are they?”

“Right drawer of my desk.”

He goes down the hall while Suga asks Mattsun if he’s okay. Kageyama gets the bottle of Xanax from the drawer. There are only a few left and he knows it’s just because Mattsun needs to make an appointment for a refill, but it still feels like it’s their fault.

“It’s just getting hard,” Mattsun is telling Suga when Kageyama walks past them to the kitchen. He speaks in monotone through the nail he’s chewing on. “I said no to you and I feel like complete shit about it.”

“Don’t,” Akaashi says. “You said that before. Don’t.”

“I’m getting older, graduating next term,” Mattsun says. “I’m overwhelmed with school and time and the future. You know how my parents are, how they feel about me being in the band at all. My dad called me about my paper this morning, so I told him I hadn’t turned it in but was going to at noon because it’s due tonight, and he said I should have done it yesterday. I can never do enough. It’s every little thing and it’s this career they want and it’s all laid out for me since I was born.”

“We understand you,” Kageyama says, coming back in. He hands Mattsun the bottle and a glass of water.

“Thanks.” He swallows a pill. “I mean. I have that life planned for me _and_ I want a normal life _and_ I love being in this band with you guys. It’s awesome every single time, no matter where we are, what venue—it doesn’t matter to me. I know I don’t say that a lot, but there’s just a ton on my mind all the time. Making music with you takes it away and I get to feel creative and genuine.”

“And you’re really good at it,” Kageyama tells him. “You do enough for us.”

Mattsun sniffs. “I feel like a fraud in my classes, but half of my brain tells me that’s the important part and being in a band isn’t plausible long-term. But then we got that offer…” He puts a hand up and lets it fall. “I don’t know. I had to choose something. I have to please so many people with so many different things.”

Suga says, “Issei…we understand why you said no.”

“And I—” He adjusts his glasses. “I want a relationship too. I don’t know if I can do school and parents and band and relationship, like, I don’t have enough hours in the day. Of course I want to be your friend, there’s no way I’m giving that up for a partner, but I want it, you know? I really like Hiro. And this…I mean, the band means the world to me, but if we’re not gonna stay…” He doesn’t say it. He puts his head in his hands. “This sucks, you guys. This sucks so bad and I’m sorry.”

“Dude,” Kageyama says. He sits back down on the couch next to him.

“God, Issei,” Suga says. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“How could I? What was I supposed to do? You guys are like my family and we _are_ Bo’s.” He glances at Bokuto and Bokuto looks down, sniffling. “I couldn’t just quit. Just let you guys go. And I just keep thinking…” He shakes his head. “I don’t even like finance school. Is that what life is going to be for me? How messed up is that?”

Akaashi shakes his head too. “Only for now. This isn’t forever—the rest of life just hasn’t happened yet. You have every right to choose what you want in that. You deserve to be selfish sometimes.”

“School’s a mess but it’s also really good for us, you know?” Kageyama shrugs a shoulder. “Because you’re going to go somewhere. In a few years’ time maybe you’ll be working in Singapore running finances for some branch of your parents’ company or something. Making six figures and going on wild trips with your wild S.O.”

Mattsun chuckles. “Maybe. Is Singapore where I’ll do what makes me happy?” He shrugs. “I just don’t want to miss out on my chances at happiness. I don’t want to miss you guys.”

It makes Bokuto start crying again, squeezing out, “Oh no…”

“You don’t have to miss us, man,” Kuroo says. “We’re right here.”

It’s such a strange thing coming from him that it catches them off-guard with its sincerity. Nobody knows what to say after that.

Kageyama looks at Suga’s bruising hand, Kuroo’s bloody lip, Bokuto’s wet face. “I don’t know even where my life is at,” he says, “but I’m just really glad you guys are in it. I became a better person after meeting you. I’ll never regret moving here.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto says, wiping his face again.

“I don’t think any of us know now,” Suga says. “I guess we’re…” He looks around at them, every emotion in his eyes. “Well, I guess we’re figuring it out from here.” He pauses as everyone nods. He says, “I’ve never punched anyone before.”

Kuroo laughs once, wipes drying blood from his lip with the back of his hand. “You’re pretty good at it.”

Suga does it—that one reserved smile, just for him. “You deserved it.”

Kuroo nods and smiles back, letting his bangs fall over his eyes.

“Can we…” Bokuto sniffs. “Do you think we could still hear the song?”

“We still have Atlanta,” Akaashi says. “Maybe it would be worth something new.”

Suga looks at Kuroo. “You have the demo?”

Kuroo nods. “Yeah. And actually—Mattsun, I wrote something really good for us in this one, during the chorus. It’ll take some real-time sampling. And Bokuto.” He avoids eye contact, no good at saying affectionate things. “The time changes a lot, so you’re gonna be really important.” He looks at Suga last and says enough with just that. “Let me get my laptop.” He goes into the hall.

Suga sighs one more time. “I’m sorry again,” he says to them.

“I should have told you about Roseneau,” Kageyama says.

Suga shakes his head. “I’m glad you didn’t, I think. I shouldn’t have had to hear it from you.” He closes his eyes again. “I can’t believe I…”

“You’re our friend, Suga,” Akaashi says gently. “We’re not blind.”

“We just didn’t know for sure,” Kageyama says.

Suga brings his hands together and nods.

Kageyama moves back further into the couch. Mattsun cleans his glasses on his shirt. Bokuto looks up at Akaashi and he brushes a tear track off of Bokuto’s cheek with the back of his finger.

“Suga, can you pass out the scores?” Kuroo comes back in with his laptop, his music program opened on an untitled track. “We can read along.”

Suga gets the papers and hands them out.

“It’s long,” Mattsun says, looking through his pages.

“Over four minutes. The parts are different per verse and get more complex at every chorus, so I couldn’t _dal segno_ you back or do a coda. To get to the end, we go straight through.” Kuroo clicks around his screen, turns up his volume. “Suga’s vocals are over what I wrote. We can add or change by what you guys want, like usual. I’ll…” He puts the laptop on the floor in the middle of the room. “Try to stay out of it. Ready?”

Everyone nods. Suga says, “Ready.”

Kuroo hits play.

The room is quiet when it’s over except for Bokuto crying again, tears tapping onto his score. Kuroo stands there leaning against the wall, looking down at the floor with his arms crossed.

“Is there a title yet?” Akaashi asks. He brushes wet spots away from Bokuto’s papers.

Kuroo tilts his head at the screen. “I have an idea. I’m still thinking about it.”

“It’s incredible,” Suga says. His voice is awed as his eyes flit around his sheet music. “I did the guide in pieces before, but when we get this all together live…” He lowers his score and looks at them. “We’re doing this song.”

“Tomorrow night?” Bokuto asks, breath hitching.

“No. We’re saving this for Atlanta.” Suga finds a stand and puts his music on it. “We’ll tell Ukai we have a song change to make. We start learning today, tomorrow we play a regular show, and next week we perfect this song until we go there on Friday.” He straightens the papers, pauses, then turns to everyone with his hands on his hips. “And you all better show up to my freaking graduation.”

“Are you kidding?” Kageyama says.

“Of course we’re going,” Akaashi says like Suga is crazy.

Mattsun chuckles. “No way we’d miss it.”

“We _have_ to watch you walk,” Bokuto says.

“We’ll be there,” Kuroo tells him.

Suga looks them all in the eyes for the longest he can, his own eyes shiny. This whole day has been completely insane. “I—thank you.” He clears his throat. “Well. Tobio, if you want to bring Hinata back in.”

“Take a second.” Kuroo gets his computer from the middle of the room and looks at Kageyama. “Suga and I need to talk.”

Kageyama looks at him, and they nod at each other. “Okay, cool,” he says. Kuroo takes Suga into the kitchen, and Mattsun goes over to Bokuto and Akaashi to figure out everything that just happened, saying a soft, _You all right, man?_ to Bokuto. Kageyama goes to the front door and steps outside.

Hinata is on the porch steps on his phone. He turns to look up at Kageyama when he walks out and gives him a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey. Sorry for leaving you out here for so long.” _Sorry for getting you involved in any of this_. He sits down next to Hinata.

“It’s okay.” Hinata puts his phone in his pocket. “It was only like fifteen minutes.”

“Oh.” He scratches his head. “It felt a lot longer than that. Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just figured it wasn’t something I should be there for.”

Kageyama nods. “Did you cry?”

Hinata laughs a little. “No. I’m not crying because of him again. Is everything okay with you guys?”

Kageyama looks at Akaashi’s bike propped near them, then out at the road, the van, the same cars and houses as always, and he suddenly realizes that he’s not going to be here forever. He looks up at the sun, squinting, and shrugs. “Yeah, I think so. The fight’s over.”

“How’s Bokuto?”

“He cried. Mattsun took a Xanax.”

Hinata nods. “Was there a song playing?”

“Yeah. A new track. It’s…something.” He looks over at Hinata, his tan skin in the sunlight, his eyelashes and the orange atop his head. “I think we’re going over it if you want to come see the learning process in action,” he says. “If you’re comfortable. No pressure. If not, we can just…” _Run away_. “Run away.”

Hinata does this easy, full laugh that’s both confusing and shocking. It loosens Kageyama’s shoulders and makes him feel a breeze in his hair. Hinata knows everything that’s important and that’s going wrong, and he’s still laughing like that anyway. “Yeah,” he says. “I think that would be cool.”

Kageyama blinks at him. His calming eyes. His whole calming face. “Cool.”

Hinata smiles at him. “Should we go back in?”

He sighs and leans back against the top step. “In a bit. Suga and Kuroo are talking.”

“That’s good. Did they say anything?”

He looks at the van again and wonders about the future. “Nothing specific. It’s all obvious. Kuroo said he can’t be with him because…” He shakes his head.

“I think, by declining, Suga broke Kuroo’s heart,” Hinata says, “but Kuroo has broken his a hundred times over.”

Kageyama can’t think of anything to say. He leans over and kisses Hinata’s cheek, and Hinata turns to kiss him once on the mouth. He rests his head on Hinata’s shoulder, and Hinata brushes his hand through the back of his hair, twirling pieces gently around his finger and letting them go. Kageyama almost starts crying at one point but holds it in. Hinata senses it and kisses the top of his head, and when Kageyama lifts his face to look at him, Hinata pulls him into a hug. Kageyama buries his face in Hinata’s shoulder and they stay like that in the breeze for a while.

“Do you still want to come to Atlanta?” Kageyama asks eventually, muffled into Hinata’s shirt.

“Are you still going?” Hinata asks back.

Kageyama nods. “Yeah.”

“Then I’ll ask my parents for sure.”

Kageyama hugs him tighter. “When do you go home again?”

“Tomorrow.”

Kageyama leans back and looks into his face. “I’m going to miss you.”

Hinata kisses his lips, then his nose. “I’ll miss you, too.”

The door opens behind them. Akaashi puts his hand on the frame. “Hey. They’re done talking for now.”

“Anything?” Kageyama asks.

Akaashi just shrugs: _Still no idea._

Kageyama nods. “Right.”

When they’re back at the threshold to the living room, Hinata stands there looking at the bruised hand and the red puffy eyes and the bloody lip and Mattsun standing behind his synth brushing the keys and Akaashi kneeling to eye level with Bokuto, and when Kageyama looks at Hinata’s face, it just says _Oh._

“I’ll tell you later,” he murmurs.

Hinata nods, understanding. Kageyama puts his arm around his waist.

Suga looks at Kuroo and motions to Hinata. Kuroo clears his throat and says, “I wanted to apologize.”

“Oh.” Hinata shifts on his feet. “It’s all right. It was a heated moment.” He waves a hand.

Kuroo says, “For all of it, I mean.”

Hinata pauses, nods. “Apology accepted. Thank you.” Kuroo nods back.

“All right. Let’s all just take a breath,” Suga tells them.

He does, and Bokuto really does. Kageyama brings Hinata back to the couch.

“Okay,” Suga breathes out. “Is everything okay?”

“We’re good, Suga,” Mattsun says, smiling halfway.

Suga picks up his microphone and switches it on. Kuroo finally hooks his bass over his shoulders. “Okay. Everything else—” Suga pushes a hand off to the side as if to say _Forget it_. “Practice starts now.” He smiles at them. “We’ve got a big show to get ready for.”

Bokuto lifts his hand in the air, spins a stick and catches it easily. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof.  
> Oh, and brate is like “dude” in Serbian.


	38. Interlude

They’re together every day starting at three, just the six of them. The Room on Saturday, and then a lot of practice, a lot of cheap dinners, three full bottles of generic brand pomegranate juice, loud music and singing and laughing and making small changes to the song, and Bokuto only cried twice during the week. He and Akaashi are still working it out, and Suga and Kuroo still look at each other sometimes and avoid it other times. Mattsun looks more relaxed than Kageyama has ever seen him, finally free from some burden, and he had his appointment on Tuesday but hasn’t touched his refill once yet. He at least texts Makki every day, even during practice. Kuroo doesn’t say anything about it.

The song comes together even better than the demo. The first full playthrough on Monday was the first time Bokuto cried. He got off his stool and his sticks clattered onto the ground and he told them all that it’s him, he knows the song is him, and Kuroo said, “It’s all of us.”

Part of Kageyama still feels strange about it all, but there’s nothing he can do. There’s nothing left but to go with it, to let this summer break do what it wants before school starts again. Listen to their band play his favorite music. Hang with his best friends while he can.

And a lot of him misses Hinata. He spends Thursday night in his dorm room alone, his roommate gone for the whole summer, his backpack for the weekend in Atlanta sitting ready on the floor. He lies on his bed thinking about Hinata, his hand tucked inside his joggers, imagining a scene of Hinata skinny dipping in the ocean at golden hour, when Hinata randomly texts him: _I love my family but a few days is enough. Send help. Also Natsu says you’re cute._ And when Kageyama picks up his phone with his free hand to look at the message, Hinata sends: _Oh and Atlanta is a go. We’ll be back midday tomorrow._ And then: _I miss you <3_

He’s done in an instant.

He gets changed, texts Hinata back, and goes into Instagram. Suga announced their show in Atlanta at The Room and Kageyama posted about it that night with his pictures. The next day, people had already said they got a ticket on the lawn to see them, a few comments that they were already going and have been waiting for the announcement of who would be the opener and are stoked it’s Something Cool.

And they sent Ukai Wednesday’s recording of the new song. It’s a go.

_We leave tomorrow,_ he thinks, _work on Saturday, kill Saturday night. And then, when we wake up on Sunday…_

Hinata texts him that he’s going to sleep. He tells Hinata good night, that he’ll see him tomorrow, and puts his phone face down and can’t remember any of his dreams.

…

_FRIDAY_

The graduation ceremony for Suga’s college is in the concert hall. Kageyama was looking at the student art when they walked in, wondering where _The Half Dimension_ was hanging before Tendou sold it. His new painting is there above a placard that says _Something’s Gotta Give_.

Everyone is in summer smart but a little less casual, good shoes and nice shirts and real pants. They got seven seats in the mezzanine, right at the railing: the five of them plus Makki, and then Suga’s mother. She’s jittery and really kind, and considering Suga, it makes a lot of sense.

There are ten more minutes until the ceremony is supposed to start. Kageyama is talking with Mattsun and Makki next to him until Makki says he’s running to the bathroom really quick. He’s wearing fitted white pants and Mattsun watches him walk away. Kageyama knows the feeling, imagining Hinata’s pinstriped shorts.

Mattsun faces forward again and sighs. “Good lord.”

“I don’t blame you,” Kageyama says. “You two are sharing a room tonight. He’ll still be in that outfit when we get there.”

He’s begging for Mattsun to say _Not for long_ or something like it, but he just smiles and adjusts his glasses. “You’re telling me.”

Kageyama shakes his head gravely. “You gonna ride there with him?”

“Think so. Hinata can have my seat.”

“Cool. We’ll thank him again for taking all our bags.”

Mattsun nods. “By the way—my dad said he’s gonna get me a car so I can quote-unquote intern at the office next year.”

Kageyama punches his shoulder. “Dude. You can go up to Greenwood any time.”

Mattsun smiles a little more. “Yeah. Finally get to meet Ny and Posty.” Kageyama just looks at him and he says, “His cats. I’ll have him tell you their full names when he gets back.”

Kageyama laughs. “All right.”

“I bet,” Bokuto’s saying on his other side. They look over at him staring down at the sea of robes and decorated caps. No more faded purple and black roots—instead, a clean undercut dyed blue, a pure cobalt that brings out every fleck of gold in his eyes. Courtesy of Suga’s hairdresser—she offered him a free bleach and dye for his graduation, and he chose instead to give it away to Bokuto.

“You think we could pick out Suga?” Bokuto asks.

Kageyama looks at the crowd of graduates, many hundreds. “No way, dude.”

“Nah, I bet I can.” He leans forward over the railing, hands with sparkly blue nails gripping onto it. He peers over the edge, squinting for a while. Sighs and leans back into his seat. “I couldn’t.”

Akaashi laughs. “We’ll see him when he goes onstage.”

_Where he belongs_ , Kageyama thinks, then pushes it away.

“Hiro,” Mattsun calls out.

Makki smiles at them, making his way back to their seats. “What’s up?”

“Tobio wants to know your cats’ names.”

Makki looks at Kageyama and grins, leaning back into his seat. “Oh, you mean NyQuil and Fencepost Malone?”

“Jesus,” Kageyama says.

In a few minutes, the ceremony starts. There’s a speech from the department head and a top student doing a poem about life and the future that rhymes in multiple languages. The school band begins “Pomp and Circumstance” and names start being called. When S comes around, they start paying attention.

And then it’s Sugawara Koushi making his way onto the stage, yellow tassels for his _magna cum laude_ honors, looking sharp even in the robe, his stage smile on. Platinum hair visible under his cap that Kuroo helped him decorate: two pieces of red ribbon in the letters _S C_. They all stand up and cheer while Suga takes his diploma and his photo. Kageyama does a whoop; Kuroo brings his fingers to his lips and whistles; Bokuto leans himself over the railing again and cups his hands around his mouth, ribbon trailing down from his arm, and shouts, “ _Sugaaaaaa!_ ”

Suga looks up toward them, grinning, puts his arm out, and bows.

Outside, Suga takes pictures with some of his classmates, holding his thesis with his supervisor, holding his mother’s arm, holding his arms around his band, throwing his cap into the air and laughing. When he tells his mom about Helsinki, he reassures her that he won’t know the answer for a while to calm her down when she starts to get emotional. He gives her his regalia, and she starts to tear up again, so he hugs her for a while longer, laughing gently.

And around five o’clock, they say their goodbyes. Suga says he’ll see her in a couple of weeks when he visits home, and she wishes him luck tomorrow night.

“Your mom is really nice,” Bokuto tells him as they’re all headed across the parking lot.

“Thank you.” He smiles and nudges Bokuto’s arm.

Kuroo says, “She always has been.”

Suga looks at him, then looks ahead. “Yeah, you met her three years ago, didn’t you? When we first met.”

Mattsun and Makki peel off to go find Makki’s car. When the rest of them get to the van, Hinata is leaning up again the side of it. Akaashi notices him first and says, “Jeez, how long has he been waiting?”

Kageyama’s heart leaps in his chest. He says, “Oh,” and jogs ahead.

Hinata smiles up at him, walking forward a few steps in his red corduroy shorts. “Just thought I’d make a cool entrance. Tsukki literally dropped me here four minutes ago. You look nice.”

Kageyama rubs his neck and laughs. He tries to put his other hand in his pocket but misses. “Thanks. How’d you know to be here?”

“It’s the concert hall parking lot,” Hinata says, eyebrow up. “And this van is unmistakable.” Kageyama concedes and Hinata laughs. “Sorry I couldn’t get here any sooner.”

“No big deal.” He sighs and looks into Hinata’s eyes. “I really missed you.”

Hinata smiles at him. “Congratulations, Suga!” he says as the guys go around them.

Kuroo opens the back doors to make sure everything is still there, as if anyone would look at this van and think of stealing something.

“Thank you! Finally,” Suga laughs. He goes to say something to Kuroo, pushing his hair back.

“Good to go?” Kageyama asks.

Hinata displays his maroon backpack over his shoulder. “Two nights. I’m ready.”

“I really really like this shirt, Kaashi.” Bokuto’s eyes are glued to Akaashi while he opens a door.

Akaashi sighs down at it. It’s white, soft, thin and slightly transparent. “I should have changed out of it for the drive.”

“No.” Bokuto shakes his head fast, watching him climb into the van. “No, definitely not.”

“They look all right,” Hinata says quietly.

Kageyama hums. “It’s going. You know, it’s a good thing we copped you a backstage pass. They only offered us two of them. I think Makki wants to go on the lawn, though.”

“Hey, we’re the true fans anyway. T and T will be in the crowd where they belong.” He shrugs nonchalantly.

Kageyama grins. “Wow, that’s the coldest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Hinata laughs. “I’m just kidding. They’ll be on the lawn, too. They’re basically going to have a picnic together. And, uh.” He leans in close, using a conspiratorial whisper. “I think Tsukki might make a move.”

Kageyama raises his eyebrows. “Really? Do you think Tadashi will go for it?”

“I think Tadashi has been waiting this whole time.” He grins. “By the way, Tsukki does actually like the music. And Makki can sit with them if he wants.”

“Cool.” _Lean close again, Shou. So close our faces touch._ “Man, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Hinata gives him a quick kiss, reaching around to squeeze his butt.

Kageyama stands there, ears heating up, shocked and dazed by it. “Wait.” He looks at Hinata’s easy smile. “What—no fair—you got to—I’ve been—” He’s short circuiting.

Hinata just shrugs, hikes his backpack up, and holds the strap. “You snooze you lose.”

Kageyama’s mind overloads so fast it blanks out. “What. I was. Just.”

“All right, get in, you two,” Suga calls from the shotgun seat, like always, grinning out the window at them. “We’ve gotta check into another state.”


	39. Atlanta I: Tomorrow

They spent almost three hours at hibachi with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima until the two of them went to their nicer hotel, courtesy of Tadashi’s dad. The band has four rooms: Akaashi and Bokuto with a queen bed and everyone else with two twins—Kageyama and Hinata, Mattsun and Makki, Kuroo and Suga. Kageyama won’t even try to wonder anymore about the two of them. They are whatever they are.

In Bokuto’s room now, he watches the clock on the nightstand turn to eleven p.m. while Hinata is getting ready to sleep across the hall in their room. He and Bokuto sit on the bed leaning against the wall while Akaashi takes a shower. He’s rubbing his Huntington Beach shirt between his fingers, listening to the water running, and he asks, “What do you want for your birthday, Bo?”

Bokuto shrugs. “I don’t know. Oh, actually—something to hang up Bon and Go.”

Kageyama laughs. “You’re really taking good care of them, huh?”

Bokuto blinks at him. “I have to.”

Kageyama nods. “Hanging mechanism, it is, then.” He makes a mental note. And maybe a new book on consciousness or chakras or art. Maybe that new pair of sticks Bokuto thought he bought but never actually did.

“I wonder where Daishou got the stuff from here,” Bokuto says.

Kageyama looks sideways at him. “Huh?”

“Sorry. I don’t mean it, like…” Bokuto shakes his head. “I just wonder. It’s good I don’t know anything about it.”

“I think the problem is that it’s everywhere,” Kageyama says.

“But _why_?” Bokuto’s hands move, defeated. There’s a framed picture on the wall of a vintage pastel green Chevrolet that he keeps staring at. “Why don’t people just stop?”

Kageyama looks down at his shirt and shrugs. “Cause there’s money and power and pressure everywhere. And like, loneliness.” He brushes a finger over the palm tree under Huntington Beach. “People are alone everywhere. You can be surrounded by people and totally lonely.”

“If I didn’t have you guys, I wouldn’t be able to do this,” Bokuto says.

_That’s why we’re sticking around_. “You can.”

“I think I am.” Bokuto blinks again.

Kageyama laughs. “Yeah. You’ve got a whole life ahead of two weeks ago. And you’re alive as frick.”

Bokuto grins, puts two finger guns in the air, then lets them fall back into his lap. “Yeah. Nice.”

Kageyama looks at the picture, too. “You have to be connected. No matter what happens, we’re still gonna have that.” Bokuto nods. “And I know you believe it, but you have to actually take it to heart.”

Bokuto doesn’t say anything. They sit there for a while as Akaashi hums the new song in the shower.

“Have you been wanting it?” Kageyama asks.

Bokuto shrugs, messing with the covers. “It’s not like I’m craving the drug, I guess. It’s more like…I just want a way out of the way I feel a lot. If that makes sense.”

“Yeah, it does. Have you made an appointment yet?”

Bokuto nods. “Next week. It’s just the free session since I don’t exactly have insurance right now.”

The fact that Bokuto actually picked up the phone and called to make an appointment on his own is reason enough for Kageyama to be extremely proud of him. “That’s still good,” he says. “And you’ll find something good for you—way better than Jack’s. You know a lot about a lot of stuff, and you’ve got all of us behind you. You should try to work at a used book store or something.”

Bokuto does that kind of sad smile. “Yeah, that’d be pretty cool. We’re still—”

“Meantime, you could do studies at the school. They pay you sometimes, to help out with student and faculty research. Suga knows people.”

Bokuto laughs and adjusts his ribbon. “Yeah. As long as I don’t have to take any pills.”

“Good plan,” Kageyama says.

Another pause.

“This’ll be my first show not high in like…forever,” Bokuto says.

“Yeah.”

“What if I’m no good?”

Kageyama snorts. “Sure. Your personality sucks and you can’t play drums.” Bokuto smiles and looks down. “Seriously,” Kageyama says. “You think picking up jazz technique in your first couple weeks of even having a set was just a fluke? You learned every rudiment in like two days—I remember because you made me sit there and listen to you play them for like twenty minutes using both grips.” He laughs. “You’re meant to be a drummer, Bo.”

“Even now?” Bokuto stares at him, pleading. “What about later?”

Kageyama shakes his head. “I don’t know. All I know is you’re wicked at those things. And that people like you right off the bat, and this show is going to be awesome.”

Bokuto looks away again. “I guess.” He looks down at his hands. “We’re still going to be friends after this, right?”

“All of us?” Kageyama asks.

Bokuto shrugs, picking at his sparkly nail polish. “The two of us.”

“What?” Kageyama makes a face at him. “Dude, we’ve been friends for way longer than this band existed. It’s been, like, thirteen years.”

“Thirteen and a half,” Bokuto says, smiling.

He smiles back. “Exactly. And the other guys…yeah. I think so. You and Akaashi are still a thing. I think you’ve proved it to him so far.”

“Yeah.” He keeps looking at the picture.

“How’s it going with you guys?”

“It’s good.” Bokuto shifts. “He said he hugged you. He almost cried when he told me—as if I’d be mad about it after everything I did to him.”

Kageyama nods. “It was…”

“Whatever it was,” Bokuto looks at him, “it’s okay.” He smiles. “And now, I can still, like—he and I can talk, and I can compliment him and things like that. But I…really miss being able to tell him I love him and ask him how his day is without…” he shrugs, “feeling like I’m pushing him.”

Kageyama nods slowly. “But that’s a good thing. You’re thinking about his feelings. You’re putting yourself in his shoes and seeing his side. That’s what’s going to work.” Bokuto just nods and Kageyama says, “You’ve always treated him like you’re in love with him.”

Bokuto smiles a little. “Yeah. He’s not angry anymore and he kissed me this morning, so. I don’t know.”

“Do you think he’s happy again?”

Bokuto stares at the bathroom, listening to Akaashi humming. “I hope so.”

Kageyama follows his gaze. “I think he wants to be. Just keep waiting. He deserves time.”

“Do you think we’re ever going to leave here?” Bokuto asks.

Kageyama doesn’t know if he means this hotel room, or Atlanta, or Normal or the country or these circumstances or this dimension. “I don’t know,” he answers.

Bokuto’s gaze drifts to the picture again. “Yeah. Cause I keep thinking, Tobe. Like, I keep thinking about it.”

Kageyama doesn’t know what to say. What comes out is, “Me too.”

Bokuto nods at the picture. Then he looks at Kageyama again and asks, “What about Issei?”

Kageyama swallows. “Oh. I think he’s gonna hang with us still. And you guys still live together, so.”

“Suga?”

“I think I’ll ask for his apartment if he moves.”

It gets Bokuto to laugh again and he feels better. “Dude. I mean, like.”

Kageyama smiles and shrugs. “I guess I don’t really know. He’s our friend, hands down. He loves us a hell of a lot, you know?” Bokuto nods. “So he’s here. Whether he’s _here_ or not.”

“Okay. Good. I love him a lot, too.”

For a second Kageyama just sits there, there looking over at his best friend, his new hair and his dimples on his cheeks that stand out when he laughs. The same Bokuto he’s always known since they were kids. Just older now.

Bokuto sighs. “And Kuroo?”

For this one, Kageyama just nods. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Good. I don’t want to—you know.” He looks down at his legs. “Lose you guys.”

Kageyama smiles. “Me either.”

The shower turns off.

Bokuto says, “We really had something cool going though, didn’t we?”

Kageyama looks to see if Bokuto is crying, but he isnt’. He’s just sitting there staring at anything. “Yeah,” he says. He takes a deep breath. “Besides. After tomorrow, we don’t even know what’s going to happen.”

“Yeah we do,” Bokuto says.

Kageyama smiles, hooks his arm over Bokuto’s shoulders, and thinks about taking the picture down. “After tomorrow.”

Their room is dark when he goes back in. He closes the door as quietly as he can and turns to Hinata’s bed, eyes adjusting. He stands at the foot of it and looks at Hinata’s form under the covers.

“Tobio?”

“Huh?” He startles, blood rushing into his face. He takes a step back from the bed. “My bad. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be a creep.” His face and neck are burning. “Sorry.”

Hinata laughs quietly. “It’s okay. I’m aware that you have a staring habit.”

In the dark, Kageyama can just make out Hinata smiling at him. “Oh. Sorry,” he whispers again.

Hinata shakes his head. “Good talk?”

“Uh, yeah.” He shifts on his feet. “Yeah.”

Hinata chuckles. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to sit down?” Hinata motions to the end of his bed.

Kageyama looks at it. “Oh. Sure.”

“You don’t have to. If you’re tired.”

No, he’s fully awake now. Probably all night at this rate. “No, it’s—yeah.” He climbs up onto the bed and sits crisscross. “Hey.”

Hinata laughs at him and sits up, legs under the covers. “Hey. Wanna talk about something?”

“Sure.”

“I’m asking you.”

“Oh.” Then, which topic to choose? His mind is thinking of so many things—Suga’s graduation, tomorrow’s show, Akaashi’s bike in the grass, the sound Diashou’s nose made when it snapped, the tissue he laid over the Ziploc bag in the trash. The new song, and last Friday, and the fight, and what everyone said then. Everything.

“Actually,” he says. “I have a question.”

Hinata yawns. “Hit me.”

“Back at Tadashi’s. What did you mean when you said it’s different with Kuroo? About the whole, like, us being all he and Bokuto have thing?”

“Oh.” Hinata thinks for a second, tilting his head. “I mean that, well. Bokuto is afraid of losing you guys; Kuroo is afraid of losing the _band_.” He leans back against the wall and puts his arms on his head. “Like, Bo without the band is sad. Kuroo without the band is nothing.”

He says it in such a gentle voice from his gentle being, and it puts tiny pinpricks all over Kageyama’s body. “Jesus,” he breathes.

“I don’t mean it in a mean way,” Hinata says. “Bokuto has had jobs and he’ll have more, you’re his best friend, Akaashi is with him. He has life things. He just cares about people. You and the other guys have options ahead of now that don’t involve the band, good degrees and future prospects. Kuroo just does music—he cares about music. His prospect _is_ a record deal. So, I mean, I feel for him a little. I understand why he was so upset.” He shrugs. “He just doesn’t handle things maturely.”

_Shou…how are you always right?_

Kageyama looks at Hinata in the dark, his white shirt and the shape of his hair, hazy greyscale features. “You’re right. I—like, I don’t know why, but when you put it what way, part of me wants him to succeed.”

Hinata smiles again. “You’re his friend. I think all of you wants him to succeed. I like you so much because all you want is for people to be happy.”

Kageyama lets it all sink in, the reasons for everything. “Oh. I guess so.” He frowns. “That’s why this sucks so much. That Suga turned it down. It feels so much like we’re missing out on sharing the talent the guys have.”

Hinata chuckles. “And Kuroo writes amazing songs.”

“He does.” Kageyama nods. “Truly.”

Hinata just shrugs again, still smiling at him.

“Yeah.” Kageyama sighs and flops down onto his back near Hinata’s legs. “And Bo…I feel bad because he’s sad, and we’re trying to get him not sad and this whole thing isn’t helping.”

“What about The Room?” Hinata asks. “Can’t you still play there?”

“What about Suga?” Kageyama counters. “He’s the leader. And even if he does stay here, can we go back after this? Can we come back after declining that offer? It means something.” He sighs at the ceiling. Hinata starts playing with his hair and he closes his eyes to the feeling of it. “I promise I’m done complaining so much,” he says quietly.

“You’re not complaining—”

“I am, but it’s going to stop. No more problem dumping. It’s gonna be so easy seeing me that you’ll be bored.” Hinata chuckles and Kageyama says, “I want you to feel like, with me, you’re invincible.”

“Don’t put so much pressure on yourself,” Hinata says. “I already feel good enough when I’m with you. I don’t need invincibility. I just need…mutual happiness. And it’s just been stressful recently, but not all the time. Besides—what are we doing?”

Kageyama smiles, feeling Hinata’s fingertips. “Figuring it out.”

“Exactly,” Hinata says. “So let’s not think anymore tonight.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama agrees. It sounds like the best decision in the world. “Okay.”

No more choices to make. Nothing in his head.

He lies there for a long time.

After a while, Hinata moves his hand to Kageyama’s chest and rubs. “Hey, Huntington Beach.”

Kageyama smiles. “Hm?”

“Let’s do it.”

He opens his eyes. Props up onto his elbow. “Do you mean sex?”

Hinata snorts. “I mean, if you’re feeling it. Your choice.”

Okay, one more choice, then. And this time, it’s really, really easy.

Kageyama gets up and moves toward him.

Hinata lies down again, smiling. “Remember, last one doesn’t count.”

“That’s a lot of pressure.” He gets over Hinata in the dark, kneeling awkwardly. “Also, uh. I—haven’t actually ever—”

“Yeah, I wondered about that.” Hinata brings a hand up to brush against his face.

Kageyama shivers. “I probably should have told you before right now.”

“I trust you and my feelings for you are legitimate, so it really doesn’t matter. I want to be close with you.”

Kageyama’s breath gets stuck in his throat. “Oh my god, Shou.” He leans down.

He gets about three kisses in before his phone chimes in his pocket. Hinata laughs, and Kageyama kicks himself but reaches for it. “I should get rid of this anyway.” He’s about to toss it onto the other bed but— “Oh. It’s Akaashi.”

“Look at it. Quick,” Hinata tells him, putting his hands under Kageyama’s shirt at his hips.

Kageyama sucks in a breath. “Okay, okay.”

It’s a screenshot of an email from Ukai Keishin. He reads the whole thing, blue light on his face.

Hinata’s hands go still against his sides. “What?”

“Hold on.” He skims it again to make sure he’s reading it right.

Then Akaashi sends: _I won’t show the others until tomorrow._ _What do you think?_

And he sends back: _dude…_

He’s grinning as he turns his ringer off and puts his phone face down on the nightstand.

“What is it?” Hinata asks, smiling back. “Take your shirt off.”

“News,” Kageyama says. He pulls his shirt over his head and kisses Hinata quickly. “I’ll tell you later.” He kisses him more.

Hinata laughs into it. “Okay. Go to my backpack, outer pocket. I brought two just in case. Actually, three.”

Kageyama blushes hard. “Got it.” He gets up, and as his feet hit the floor, Hinata flicks on the bedside lamp. He looks over his shoulder to see Hinata cast in soft yellow once again. Hinata has a strange expression on his face, staring at him unblinking.

“What’s wrong?” Kageyama asks. Is he having second thoughts?

Hinata murmurs, “You have a phenomenal back.”

He can’t really blush any more than he already is, but he would if he could. He says, “Oh,” and turns to face Hinata. “Probably from helping with the equipment…” He brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck.

Hinata’s eyes slide down his chest and torso, up to his shoulders and arms. “You should wear some things that aren’t hoodies more often.” He looks into Kageyama’s eyes again. “Come make out with me for a while first. I’m feeling really…” He tilts his head, and the light cuts across his face—half golden, half shadowed. His eyes glint. “Grabby.”

Kageyama glances at Hinata’s hands, then his lips. He doesn’t hesitate to move back toward the bed.


	40. Atlanta II: Open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some music terminology in this chapter. If you're unfamiliar with it, that's totally fine and it should make sense regardless! For those who know more about music, I hope it helps you hear things a little better in your head.

_SATURDAY_

* * *

In the bathroom backstage, with maybe fifteen minutes until the guys go on, Kageyama leans onto his hands against the edge of the sink. He looks down at his crew lanyard, his name on the laminate like he’s actually a professional who’s supposed to be here. Soundcheck was this afternoon, and he spent time with the lighting guy, learning what it felt like to do this kind of work. After that email, he really wonders.

In the mirror, _Everybody Loves A Happy Ending_ is written backwards on his shirt. He looks at it and feels like he still doesn’t know anything. He faces the door, sighs, turns off the light, and exits the bathroom.

It’s dim backstage. Gorillaz and Blink-182 play out on the speakers in the theatre. They all saw the number of seats and the size of the lawn earlier, and he can hear the crowd singing out in the dark, but he doesn’t know how many people are actually here. The Room wouldn’t stand a chance.

The guys are gathered together talking to the stage manager they’ve been working with all day, having a last-minute rundown with their instruments already onstage. Suga wears his half-unbuttoned white silk, Bokuto his yellow terrycloth shorts and sweatband and matching cutoff shirt with Akaashi. Mattsun’s striped button-down show shirt and thermos in hand. Kuroo’s tight jeans and visible tattoo. All of them with their ribbons on, and Akaashi’s new one—three feet four inches, tied to the arm that mirrors Bokuto’s.

Kageyama touches the one on his wrist.

Hinata stands off to the side listening. He’s been a stagehand for the night, and he looks really good in cuffed jeans shorts. It gives Kageyama a high thinking about last night, when the first time was embarrassingly quick but the second time was a lot better. The third one is for tonight after the show.

“I’m back,” Kageyama says when he reaches his side.

Hinata smiles up at him. “It’s really soon. Why am I nervous?”

Kageyama pushes out a breath. “Tell me about it.”

“And just a reminder, you’ve got about seven minutes to clear your instruments after your set,” the stage manager is saying.

“No problem,” Kuroo tells her.

“Then you guys should be good to go,” she says. “Your stage is set. Ten-minute mark.”

Another voice says: “And there’s almost fourteen thousand people out there tonight, boys.”

They all turn to look. The man is exactly what Kageyama expected Ukai Keishin to look like: tatted arms, bleached hair, jeans and a Henley tee, maybe mid-thirties, and a smile that looks like it makes plenty of money.

“So make it count,” Ukai says.

Suga shakes his hand first. “Ukai, sir. It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Pleasures all mine, you guys.” He shakes hands with everyone, firm and quick—Bokuto with big eyes and Kuroo with a respectful nod. “I’m glad I got you to come here. As I was telling your manager, I’ve been looking at you for a while now. You keep landing good gigs, have a good following. People like you.”

“Oh. Thank you. So much,” Suga says, restless and nervous, but still a great leader. “We really appreciate the opportunity. We couldn’t imagine a venue like this.”

“You don’t have to imagine it anymore.” Ukai smiles at them, crossing his arms. “And there are venues like this all over the country. Bigger. Stages that would fit your sound.”

Suga glances at Kuroo but maintains his smile. “Of course. We, um…”

“Look, like I said when you guys called me,” Ukai says, “I get it. The problem with me is that I tend not to take no for an answer.” He puts his hands together and suddenly looks like business. “So what are we thinking about my offer?”

Akaashi looks at Kageyama. Kageyama looks at him, looks at Hinata. Hinata winks.

But everyone else is confused. Kuroo eyes Suga, who’s stuttering out, “Sorry, we—um, is—”

“I withheld the email from them until we talked face to face with you tonight,” Akaashi admits to Ukai. “I thought maybe the shock factor would help.”

Ukai looks impressed with it, like he and Akaashi have some kind of rapport going from emails. It wouldn’t be surprising. Akaashi knows what he’s doing. He goes to school for this. “My kind of strategy,” Ukai says, nodding. “All right, then. I’ll cut to the chase since you’ve got to get onstage soon.” He crosses his arms again, ultra casual. “I’m extending my offer for another couple of days. I’ll give you tonight, let you get a taste of things. I want you guys on our label and I’m not the only one. We don’t just blindly pick your local bar band and hand them a contract.”

Bokuto whips his face to Akaashi, then back to Ukai, and can’t help letting out a, “Wait.” Mattsun rubs his hand over his head. Kuroo is definitely holding in _You’re kidding me_ and is somehow choosing to let Suga give his say. Whatever they talked about in that kitchen, or the days since, or their hotel room last night, some part of him is making an effort to change the way he is.

Suga takes a deep breath, puts one hand on his hip and the other on his temple.

“It’s a big decision, I know.” Ukai puts his hands up: _I understand you._ “But it’s a once in a lifetime thing. Or twice, if you’re working with me.” He smiles. “Look, guys. Your new song… Usually, when we get a new band in and they bring product, songs they’ve written, we end up having to tell them, like, no, this isn’t how you write a song. Songs have structure and method. And you follow that in most of the tracks I’ve heard from you, even with your alternative writing.” He looks at Kuroo. “You’re clearly knowledgeable about music and technique, and you’ve developed a distinctive individual style.”

Mattsun puts his hand on Kuroo’s shoulder and squeezes. “I really appreciate that,” Kuroo says.

“He has a degree,” Bokuto mentions, bouncing on his toes.

Ukai chuckles. “Degree, skill, talent—if you’re good, you’re good. And this new song?” He shakes his head. “It’s like you just gave us all the finger, said fuck it and did whatever you wanted anyway, and somehow, it works. It mimics your image and the differences between each of you,” he looks at all of them, even Kageyama, “but how you still become cohesive when you’re in this group together. It’s just experimental enough that it hasn’t been done before in your circle, but arranged in a way that people will get it enough to still enjoy it. A unique but singable melody, a story that a lot of people in just this crowd alone are gonna be able to relate to.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what you guys have been through to get a song like this, but it’s working out for you.”

Kageyama shifts on his feet and leans closer to Hinata. Suga’s eyes drop to the floor before he forces them back up to Ukai. Bokuto’s hand goes to his arm.

Ukai reads them all too well and continues simply. “If you were to debut ‘Manor’ as your title track and the new song in secondary, and music videos for both with _your_ faces?” He nods at Suga. “You have a star image here. Kids your age are already into it and that’s our largest demographic. If we work our marketing right, you guys will be selling out stadiums three times this size as the headlining act. This could be something really big.”

Something flutters around in Kageyama’s stomach. His heart is beating hard, waiting for Suga to say something. Hinata puts his hand on his back.

Kuroo says, “Koushi,” and turns to face him.

Suga looks at him, looks around at everyone else. “You make a really good argument,” he says. “I just…”

“You don’t have to answer right this second,” Ukai says, putting a hand up again. “I’m just telling you guys what’s up. Let’s be honest—we’re looking for return on our investment, and I think that with the right promo, even just your debut record could make us and you a shitload of money.” He shrugs. “I know it sounds like what we’d say to anyone, but the fact is that you all are coming in prepared. You have enough material for an album already. This process could be as fast as the paperwork it takes. You guys come down for a couple weeks and record what you’ve got in-studio, write another song or two to top things off, create a self-titled. And then skyrocket.”

Suga looks like he’s overloading on it all. A certain desperation shows on Kuroo’s face, not even for the money or the fame, but for the recognition—a chance to finally get his art out, signal boost it to the whole country or the world if Ukai isn’t faking them out. And why would he ever have offered or invited them here if he was.

“This is insane,” Kuroo says.

Ukai nods at him. “No joke, man. We don’t usually push this hard. I want you before some bigger corporate label manages to catch you and then blindsides you with changes. My producers are prepared to work with your style and your sound as it is.”

“Dude, I’m freaking out,” Bokuto says. He shakes his hair and hands around.

Kageyama reaches sideways and hooks his fingers into Hinata’s belt loop. On the other side of the stage, the crowd is singing to Linkin Park. Almost fourteen thousand people waiting.

He hears Suga in his head: _I want—I mean, I thought maybe. I keep thinking I made the wrong decision…_

Mattsun: _I just don’t want to miss out on my chances at happiness._

Kuroo: _That’s all I’ve ever wanted_.

Bokuto: _I just wanted it to go on forever._

“What are you thinking?” Suga asks, looking at Mattsun.

Mattsun shrugs. “I can’t think. I have no idea.”

“Everyone?” Suga says.

Akaashi says, “This is you, Suga,” and Kageyama says, “Anything.”

Suga chews his lip. Shakes his head. “We’ll really have to think about it. I don’t know what else to say right now.”

“Can I ask what’s holding you guys back?” Ukai says. “Is it a family thing? Money?”

Suga blinks at the floor. “Just life, I think.”

Ukai nods. “Sure. Not sure what you want, we hear that sometimes. You guys are young. I was twenty-six at my first serious show with my group back then, and I _knew_ it was what I wanted. Don’t say yes if it’s not something you think you’re cut out for and that you’ll go all-in on. We get bands sometimes that aren’t pushing, aren’t testing their creative limits. They just want to know what sells tickets, and that doesn’t work, especially in alternative. You have to have something else—to be willing to make the record you want regardless of who listens. I think you guys have that. But you have to want it.”

They wait. Kageyama tries counting the seconds but each of them feels like forever.

“Is there any way we could,” Suga moves his hand around, “talk again after the show, or?”

Kuroo stares at him.

Ukai smiles like he knows everything. “That’s the plan.”

Suga nods. “Okay. Then…we’ll figure something out.” He runs his fingers through his hair and says, “Something.”

“Two minutes,” the stage manager calls to them.

“Jesus,” Suga whispers.

Bokuto rolls his shoulders and says, “Oh man.”

“One more thing,” Ukai says. “No matter what you decide as a band—Kuroo.”

Kuroo turns from Suga back to Ukai.

“We have this spot with one of our producers,” Ukai tells him. “We had it open for an apprenticeship, but I asked them to hold it until I got the chance to bring it up with you tonight.”

Bokuto’s mouth drops open. All eyes go to their cliché, arrogant, fuckboy, pretends he doesn’t care but actually does, musically gifted down to his DNA, made-for-this bassist.

Kuroo says, “You’re offering that to me?”

“Yeah.” Ukai chuckles again. “Your songwriting and composition are totally our style, and you’ve got the education to back up your talent like anyone else applying. And I’m sure you have a lot more work than just what I’ve seen.”

Kuroo says, “Holy shit.”

Then they’re laughing—Kageyama and Hinata and Bokuto and even Ukai. Mattsun shakes his head and Akaashi pinches the bridge of his nose. Suga pushes Kuroo’s arm with an intense brightness in his eyes.

“Jesus, I’m—yeah,” Kuroo says. “I mean…” He looks around at them all, and Kageyama wonders what’s going through his head.

“You’re thinking that it’s dependent on what your band chooses?” Ukai asks through a smile, tilting his chin at them like he knows Kuroo way too well. “It’s not one or the other. You can still work with us as a producer even if you have a touring season. We were all in a band once.”

“God, Tetsurou, say yes,” Suga says, laughing.

_That’s all you’ve ever wanted_ , Kageyama thinks. He pulls Hinata even closer.

Kuroo puts his hand out. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”

Ukai gives it a firm shake.

The stage manager calls, “Start heading out. Can’t keep them waiting any longer.”

“Well. Your manager has my info,” Ukai says, clapping his hands together. He gives Akaashi a smile and Akaashi nods. “And I hope I have your trust. We’ll be in touch,” he says to Kuroo, and then to everyone, “And we’ll talk after you’re all on. Go play an awesome show, you guys. Like I said—” He starts walking away to the headliners’ green room. “Make it through tonight. And let me tell you—there isn’t anything in the world like being up there.”

And then he’s gone. They’re standing there listening to the crowd. They all look at each other.

“So, uh…” Kageyama says.

Suga just shakes his head. There’s nothing left to think until it’s over. “You heard the man.” He turns to Kuroo. “I guess that degree is coming in handy after all, huh?”

Kuroo holds his tongue and just smiles at him.

Suga grins. “Help me get my hair wet.”

“Oh god, there’s thousands, Kaashi,” Bokuto says, turning to him. “I’m first on.”

Akaashi looks up at him. “You can do it.”

“I’m so nervous.”

“Remember that Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, and Makki are out there. Perform for them. And…” He puts his hands on Bokuto’s arms. “You’re amazing onstage, Koutarou. Nobody loves watching you more than I do. You can beat anything.”

Bokuto’s cheeks redden and his eyes glitter. He puts hands hand on Akaashi’s face, then softly kisses his forehead. “I love you. I have to say it. I love you.”

Akaashi puts his fingertip on the center of his chin.

Kageyama stares at them. He doesn’t know what they talked about in their room last night either, after he left, but he’s starting to think that he doesn’t need to worry about it anymore.

“You gotta beat us out there, Tobe,” Mattsun tells him. “Get ready to photograph. “He gives Kageyama a salute.

“Oh—right.” Kageyama turns to Hinata. “I know you’ve been _at_ the barricade, but now get ready for… _in_ the barricade.”

Hinata shakes his head at him. “Let’s go, Major Tom.”

They go down the steps to the floor at the side of the stage in the dark. Around the edge of it, with the audience louder with each step, they come out onto the amphitheatre.

There are more people than Kageyama can comprehend in one place. Fans in the pit lean onto the barricade, seats are full of bodies and the ocean of them extends out in a fan onto the lawn. Most have their phones on, and the stars are out above them, and stage is awash in colored lights, dim whites and shades of green and blue.

This is the kind of venue they should have been playing this whole time. This is where their music belongs.

“Oh my god,” Hinata says before Kageyama can get anything out.

“You read my mind,” he breathes. Hinata grabs hold of his arm.

All at once, the music shuts off and the crowd cheers as Bokuto jumps up onto the back of the stage. The cameraman at stage right angles toward him, and Bokuto’s grinning face is projected huge up onto the monitors. He throws an arm up at the crowd, the end of his ribbon trailing down. Kageyama can see it on his face—the same amazement—and the view is probably even better from on the stage. He looks awestruck, like he’d never expected anything like this. Like there was a time when he might not have been around to see it.

And yet, he’s still Bokuto, going to his set, picking up his mic, and keeping his cool with the crowd like he always does—as if he’s known every one of these people forever.

“You were probably expecting us to come out playing, huh? I guess that’s not our style. Plus, I like the attention,” he says. “It just means you’ll get more songs in a row cause we’re poor and don’t have any instrument swaps to disguise as talk breaks.”

Kageyama claps a hand to his forehead and imagines Akaashi backstage doing the same thing. Hinata laughs.

“So what is up, Atlanta?” Bokuto asks louder. “You guys wouldn’t believe the things we’ve had go wrong recently. Like, I almost died a few times, you know what I mean?”

The crowd gives him a cheer while he stands there with his feet apart, the muscles in his legs coming back, looking out on everyone, giving away his story to fourteen thousand anonymous strangers. Kageyama snaps a photo.

“And you know what?” Bokuto says. “Fuck it.” He puts his mic on its stand and sits at his stool, takes out his sticks and does a quick roll through his toms. He pulls the mic close and shares a secret: “Time is fake and life never ends. We’re all here now, and tonight, nothing else matters.”

While the crowd is _woo_ ing, the big screen shows Mattsun making his way onto the stage, twisting the lid off of his thermos. He gets to his synth and taps a few buttons, then leans close to his mic and angles back toward Bokuto. “I guess we’re going deep tonight, huh, Bo.”

Bokuto laughs. He says in the most nasally white voice he can, “Please allow me to introduce you to my colleague, Matsukawa.”

Mattsun snorts. “Thanks, dad. Anyway,” he turns back to the crowd. “I’m Mattsun, and this is not vodka, promise.” He holds up his thermos and takes a swig.

“It’s juice, we swear,” Bokuto tells them. People at the barricade are smiling because not a single one believes them. Girls with colored hair hold their phones up to get a video of this new band, or maybe they already know them, and Kageyama thinks of Bob from the festival and wonders if she’s here tonight. Real Pants and Pink Hair definitely made it.

Mattsun puts down his juice and plays a chord on his synth, way too quiet. He tries again, clicks a button and pushes a fader, and a cool space-age sound rises out of the amps, loud across the theatre. He chuckles and pushes up his glasses. “Sweet.”

Some guy near the front calls out, “How many are you?”

The camera cuts to Kuroo, walking on from stage right and holding up a four. He goes to his bass and hooks it over his shoulder without saying anything, trying to hide his shock at the capacity of this place.

“That’s four for the people in the back,” Bokuto says. “From our stoic bassist. Is this a no-smoking venue?”

Kuroo starts playing the intro riff for Green Day’s “Longview” and the crowd cheers it on.

“ _Is_ this a no-smoking venue?” Kageyama asks Hinata.

Hinata shrugs, leaning to look at the photos Kageyama has taken. “I don’t know, but The Room is.”

Kageyama pauses. “Right.”

“Our number one hit,” Bokuto says with a grin. “We like to do this dramatic one-by-one entrance thing, if you couldn’t tell. But you know how to count, so everyone please welcome our singer, our leader, our lovely: Marilyn Monroe.”

Suga walks on smiling with his chrome mic and soft boy wet hair and highlighted cheeks catching the colors from the stage lights. Somehow, he still looks flawless on the monitor. He says his usual line: “Thanks a lot, Bo, but I’m too freaking skinny.”

One of the girls with red hair aims her phone camera at him and zooms in a little. Kageyama can’t blame her. Ukai knows what he’s doing.

Suga comes front and center and says, “All right, Atlanta. I’m Marilyn, also known as Suga. For all you non-Japanese, yes, that’s my real name. Our bassist over here is pretentious, also known as Kuroo.” Kuroo looks at him and Kageyama catches Suga’s wink in return. “Mattsun is on the keys, and Bo is your new best friend. We’ve taken long enough already and everyone hates openers, so let’s just get into it.” He smiles down at the front rows. “Our first song is called ‘Fess Up,’ and we are Something Cool.”

Bokuto clicks them in at 186 and the song begins.

They play straight through five songs, only brief introductions from Suga before each next one in their setlist begins. Kageyama moves back and forth across the front to get photos, and he feels important and decisive even just for the angles he gets to choose and the power the band gives off. He remembers the day they learned “Fess Up,” with its psychedelic melody and Kuroo’s spotlight during the bridge. He thinks back to the festival during Bokuto’s spotlight in “Nihilistic Semi-Clairvoyant Alien” and Kageyama is glad to see him sweating bullets by the end of it, his cobalt hair sticking out around his sweatband. He sees The Room in his head and the night he got Hinata’s number during “Silver Platter” where Mattsun gets his actual spotlight this time—a dark blue wash over the stage with a brighter ray shining over him as he plays his classical intro, exactly what Kageyama has always imagined and what he asked for from the lighting tech he worked with earlier. “Garden Terrace Overgrown with Kudzu” makes him think of Roseneau, of the dome in the sun and the plants and the house they shared and everything that happened because of it, and Suga’s vocals give him his spotlight, gorgeous in silk and a flowing red ribbon on the stage.

Akaashi comes out halfway through and stands on Kageyama’s other side. Kageyama shows him some of the photos. When he asks, “Ukai?” Akaashi just says, “After.”

They play “Manor of Man” as their fake closer. During verse two, the screen shows a close-up of the same routine of Suga behind Kuroo, pressed to his back, covering his eyes and bringing his mouth close to his ear with his breathy vocals. It’s exactly as it has always been, and Kageyama wonders if anything has changed, if anything means anything at all. If it’s easier for them to do it now or if they’re just acting, and what’s going on in their heads. And then Suga draws his fingers down Kuroo’s face, brushing over his lips, and melts away to center stage as everybody dies.

During the last instrumental, Kageyama looks out at the audience and it hits him that they were cheering out of obligation before, but now they’re cheering because they _want_ to. There are people who have been singing the lyrics, who know the songs. He doesn’t recognize them, but they could be fellow students, or just fans of the band, or people who were at the festival or The Room, or who just found them on social media. People _know_ them. Now this whole stadium does.

He turns to Akaashi and says over the music, “How much do you want to bet?”

Akaashi smiles halfway, glancing up at the screen that’s showing Bokuto as he performs. “How much do you?”

Hinata nudges Kageyama. “You told me the ribbons didn’t mean anything, right?” He smiles slyly. “I’d bet almost fourteen thousand.”

Kageyama looks at him, the colored lights brilliant in his eyes.

They look back up at the stage.

The last note of “Manor” rings out, and the guys finally take a break. Bokuto shakes out his hair, Mattsun sips his not vodka, and Kuroo reaches for a Newport. Suga comes to the front again and brings up his mic.

“All right, everyone. Jesus, this place is amazing. Are we enjoying the show?” The crowd cheers loudly, people in the front rows putting up their hands. Suga’s usual stage smile has broken into this massive, sweaty, dripping-highlighter grin. “Thank you so much, you guys, seriously.” He sighs, breathless, and pushes his wet hair back. “You know, Bokuto mentioned before that there’s been a lot going on for us lately, and it’s true. Things have gone crazy over the past couple of weeks for us. You know we’re students, right? I just graduated _yesterday_.” A cheer for him and he puts his hand out. “Thank you, thank you.” He hooks his thumb over his shoulder. “Bo back there—he’s only twenty, like, he’s not even legal. Our photographer is literally nineteen. And Mattsun? He has _those_ parents, you know what I’m saying?” He laughs. “Our manager is the only sane one out of all of us. He holds us down, cause like…being in a band…” He trails off, then sighs again. “We’ve been through a lot together, and this place—” he motions out at the crowd, the amphitheatre, the sky, “is insane for us. We want to give a huge thanks to Ukai Keishin for inviting us, for seeing us. And a huge thanks to all of you for coming out tonight.” He holds his microphone with both hands and says in this serious, gentle voice: “And the biggest thanks to my band.” He pauses to look at them again—the three around him on the stage, and Kageyama and Akaashi in the barricade. “You guys have been really good for me. Us for us. Really, _really_ cool.”

Kageyama feels a chill spread out into his fingertips.

Suga has it. No matter what, when he’s up on a stage—giving a preplanned speech at a charity event, or a quick talk to a small audience at a festival, or having conversations with familiar faces in a bar, or standing here in front of fourteen thousand people—anywhere. He has it. Ukai knows _exactly_ what he’s doing.

“We love you, Suga,” Bokuto says into his mic.

Suga smiles at him, and at each of them. He turns his attention back out to the audience. “So. That last song we played, ‘Manor of Man’—that’s usually our closer. But not tonight. We’ve got one more new song we want to play for you guys. See, our bassist.” Kuroo sends him a glance as he’s clipping a tuner to his bass head, taking his first string to drop D. “Kuroo has written basically every note you’ve heard from us tonight,” Suga says. “He worked on this thing for ages, and I have to say, it’s indefinable. What’s a good word for it?”

“Unexpected,” Mattsun suggests. He casually sips his juice.

“Definitely.” Suga nods.

“ _Coup de maître_ ,” Bokuto says, and Kuroo translates, exhaling smoke: “Master stroke.”

Suga grins and points back at Bokuto. “That’s it. This is our _magnum opus_. And it’s the first time we’re playing it live. So are we cool, Atlanta?” The crowd gives him a definite yes. “Then I’m gonna have to ask everybody to get in the mood. Trust us.”

Suga hooks his mic into its stand. Kuroo clicks off his tuner. Mattsun adjusts features on his mixer, getting his pedals ready to sample. Kageyama gets his camera ready, adjusting the exposure for what he knows is coming.

“Thanks again to everyone for coming out,” Suga says. Kuroo plucks a string, a low hum to key Suga in. “We appreciate every one of you, you’ve got a great show coming up, and we hope you all have a good night. One more time, Atlanta. We are Something Cool, and this is ‘Something Wrong.’”

The lights lower over the band in a deep, faded purple. Kageyama raises his camera and wonders if one more means one last.

Bokuto begins the song with a soft drum beat in 3/4 time. The crowd is quiet, holding up phones and nodding to it. Suga does a vocal pickup and Kuroo comes in, major key and slightly distorted, using his pedal on only some notes.

_Tell me, did you hear that?_

_They’re talking all about me_

_I’ll do it when you’re not looking_

_What I wish I didn’t need_

_Trying to make things clear_

_They all just want to show me_

_But on the roof, it’s lonely_

_And there’s something wrong with me_

Suga’s live voice is unmatched by a recorded demo in an old living room. His tone is pure, smooth, and melodic like he sounds when he’s alone.

The pre-chorus starts to build as the bass gets dirtier. Mattsun comes in with sustained notes under a waving long vibrato effect. He plays minor chords and major sevenths, with deep hits on Bokuto’s kick drum and lights to accompany the beats, but with flitting notes on the hi-hat, almost as if it’s rattling. Suga’s vocals pass in and out of the feeling by two lines and he gradually raises his voice to lead into the refrain.

_Seeing my reflection_

_In the dark where I’ve been hiding_

_Color in my irises_

_Can’t remember what I did_

_Run from something I can’t see_

_Satin falling from the trees_

_Go ahead and kill me_

_I promise you’ll feel better_

They stop abruptly and the refrain doesn’t hit. Bokuto pulls them back into verse two in a swaying 6/8. Kuroo is quiet again but more distorted, playing his notes higher up on the neck to mimic an electric guitar. It’s Kageyama’s favorite part of the song—his favorite lyrics and a nice sound, but this strange, uneasy feeling with piano notes hitting the sevenths and suspended tones. Bokuto uses a brush in his left hand and plays rim taps on his cymbals with his right. Though the structure is chaotic, Kuroo knows what he’s doing.

_Tell me that you’re worried_

_You say that it’s concerning_

_The things I see when I’m alone_

_My mind, my sanity_

_Locked here in the bathroom_

_Waiting for a reason_

_Come find me while I’m still breathing_

_I swear it wasn’t me_

“It’s so different out here,” Hinata says. “Suga sounds…”

“Don’t laugh if I get emotional,” Kageyama says.

“I won’t, Tobio.” 

In the second pre-chorus, he can just make out Mattsun’s quarter notes from the verse sampled into this section. Kuroo styled them perfectly to fit in, even with the chord changes.

_One more thing I can’t decide_

_To leave three years ago behind_

_Couldn’t stand to watch you go_

_Tell me something I don’t know_

_Paling in comparison_

_To something I’ve been used to_

_Ask as I slip away from you_

_“Are you feeling better?”_

And then, all at once, Bokuto hits them into the 4/4 refrain and the lights go bright. It’s heavy drums and a lot of crash; Kuroo and Mattsun at full volume with dense, intricate instrumentals that Kageyama doesn’t understand and doesn’t need to. They complement everything Suga is doing—the perfect amount of melody and the perfect amount of noise. Kageyama’s favorite noise.

_How much am I supposed to take?_

_What I’ve lost and can’t replace_

_It stayed there where I left it_

_My memory of you_

_Remind me what you needed_

_Convince me that I should believe_

_The life it takes from what I’ve been_

_Show me something new_

It’s massive in the venue, bursting from the amps. Kageyama’s ears hurt but he doesn’t care. He’s only taken five photos this time, but he isn’t thinking about it anymore. Suga draws in deep breaths and sings from his chest, his mic out from its stand again, his eyes squeezed shut as he bends over for longer notes, his shirt falling away from his shoulder.

Kageyama’s heart is in his throat. He turns to look at Akaashi to try to say something, but Akaashi is staring up at their band, unblinking, and Kageyama forgets what he was thinking of. He looks at Hinata to try again but he’s staring too, and the colors are playing on his skin, swirling around in his eyes, his orange comma sitting gently above his brows and his lips parted.

Nothing comes out of Kageyama’s lungs. He swallows and brings his phone back up.

When he zooms in on Suga, his stomach twists. He lowers his phone back down to look.

As the refrain ends, all the noise cuts off again. The last half-verse is just synth and vocals, the time signature fragile at best. Suga does what he wants in a rhythmless melody with Mattsun playing high bell tones, fitting in anywhere. Suga’s voice is choked, too high in his head. On the screen, glittering droplets roll down his cheeks as he cries.

_The fever dream is breaking_

_I just can’t stand the noises_

_Just flush them down, ignore it_

_Look at me. Say my name_

Kuroo is staring at him, and Bokuto watches from the back. Even Mattsun, not missing a single note, can’t help but look. The entire amphitheatre has their eyes on Sugawara Koushi.

“God,” Kageyama whispers, and he doesn’t know if anybody hears him. He manages to take one picture before Bokuto, delayed by the state of things, suddenly remembers that they’re in a band, and they’re playing a show, and that Suga is isn’t singing just to them, because they’re in an amphitheatre with almost fourteen thousand people, and he’s the drummer. He shakes his head, gathers his sticks in trembling hands, and takes them into the final chorus.

_How much am I supposed to take?_

_What I’ve lost and can’t replace_

_It stayed there where I left it_

_My memory of you_

_Remind me what you needed_

_Convince me that I should believe_

_The life it takes from what I’ve been_

_Show me something new_

_I’ll find it when I wake up_

_I don’t want to see the future_

_But you tell me that there’s something out there_

_Promise me forever_

_Under my bed, on the floor_

_I won’t take it anymore_

_Tell me this is everything_

_I’m begging to feel better_

After the fourth beat—nothing, no downbeat. No more bass, no more synth, silenced cymbals. Suga steps back up to his mic stand, and the trailing ends of his ribbon around his hips float down to a rest by his side. With two hands on his mic, his lips nearly touching, he sings alone, drenched in purple: his wet hair in his eyes, his shirt, his mic, his skin, his sweat, and his tears.

_Close your eyes from everything_

_I promise you’ll feel_

In the grand pause, he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, and his mic picks up a shaky sigh.

Next to Kageyama, Akaashi says, “Suga,” and Hinata whispers, “Oh my god.”

Kageyama finds Hinata’s hand and Akaashi’s wrist and holds them tight.

Bokuto plays a final hard hit, and Mattsun and Kuroo resolve to the major first, holding it out. Bokuto does a long crash roll as the lights flicker around them, bright purple and white. Suga takes his mic and goes up to the front. He looks out on the cheering crowd, drops falling from his cheeks, and shouts, “Good night, everyone.”

At the edge of the stage in the center, Suga lifts his chin up and closes his eyes, throws his arm out with his mic in his hand, and bows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give a huge thank you to everyone who has followed this story. These particular characters hold a lot of meaning for me, so it has been really uplifting to see that people enjoy not only them, but the events they have gone through and their relationships with each other. I hope that, even with all the trouble in this narrative, you've found something good from it and had a good time reading along. Writing this was one of the most fun things I've ever done, and I'm very happy to be able to share it here.  
> Thank you all so much again. I appreciate everyone here! <3
> 
> Follow or visit me on
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/revel__ry)
> 
> to chat or if you'd like me to write something for you :)


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